


Ripped Chords and Blue Jeans

by ddelusionall



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jaejoong has a fucked up life, M/M, Piano Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Yoochun is just trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: Yoochun is a piano instructor for children of the elite. When a bonafide prodigy lands on his piano bench, Yoochun falls hard
Relationships: Kim Jaejoong/Park Yoochun
Kudos: 1





	1. Common Chords

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](http://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

**Warning: Underage sex. Yoochun is 24, Jaejoong is 15**

“Good morning, students.” Yoochun walked in the front of the class and set his bag down on the desk.

“You’re our teacher?”

The surprise in that voice made Yoochun smile. “Yes,” he said, meeting the young girl’s eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh no, Sonsaengnim Park. I just … thought you’d be older.”

Yoochun smiled wider. “Nope. Not old. Not yet.”

“How old are you?” another girl asked.

“Twenty-four.”

“Can we call you oppa?”

“I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

They pouted, and Yoochun smiled. “We have to be friends first, don’t we?”

“Oh. Yeah. Let’s be friends.”

“Friends need to know each other’s names, so let me take roll.”

There were nine students in this piano class. Eight girls. One boy. Yoochun loved how small his classes were. It was so easy to give each student the attention they needed when he didn’t have to stand up in front of thirty of them and try to teach them the piano. They met twice a week, on Monday and Wednesday and then the other days, Yoochun had a separate lesson with each of them. His lessons were expensive, so these students were children of wealthy families (something Yoochun was not).

“Kim Jaejoong?”

The boy in the back looked up. He stood, muttered a polite introduction, bowed and sat back down. Yoochun was temporarily frozen when the boy looked up, wide brown eyes peering at him from beneath too long bangs.

“It’s good to have you,” Yoochun said, voice slightly dazed.

Jaejoong was beautiful. That was the only word Yoochun could use to describe him.

“You’re Kim Junsu’s cousin, right?”

A pink tongue wet Jaejoong’s lips and he nodded. “He … Junsu-hyung taught me.”

“Then you should be really good.”

Those pale, smooth cheeks reddened, and Yoochun had to force himself to look away. He finished the roll call, and the girls started tittering in excitement. Yoochun passed out a sheet of what he expected from each student, and the goals they had for the next five months of study. These children were not beginners on the piano. He’d seen all of them in their various recitals.

All except Jaejoong. He didn’t do recitals. Yoochun wasn’t sure why, but that was a requirement in this class (another reason why his parents signed him up for it).There was a required recital every month, showcasing the different musical styles his students learned.

With a few minutes left, Yoochun said, “Okay, who wants to show off?”

Everyone put their hand up except for Jaejoong. Yoochun wanted to hear him play, but would not call him out today. He pointed to one of the girls and she squealed. She sat at the piano and started playing Mozart’s ninth. The other girls laughed and said she was so kitschy, and then applauded when she was done.

“You have your schedules,” Yoochun said. “Yoomi and Jaelin and Meena, I’ll see you two for practice tomorrow and the rest of you, I will see on Wednesday. You’re dismissed.”

The girls whispered and giggled, and Yoochun caught a few “he is so cute” and “I can’t believe how lucky we are” statements.

Yoochun watched Jaejoong as the young boy put away his notebook. He put his headphones on, and played around with his iPhone. The girls bowed and said goodbye to him, but Jaejoong sat at his desk for a little longer, completely unaware of everything.

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun said.

The boy looked up, startled, and saw the empty class. He swallowed, muttered an apology and then was gone in a flash of dark hair and pale skin.

Yoochun sighed.

♪-♪-♪

The next day, Yoochun started teaching them how to play jazz.

“You sort of have to forget everything you learned in classical training,” Yoochun said. He sat at the piano and started playing. The girls sighed, eyes half shut, smiling, as they listened.

“The beats are different, so is the way you move your fingers. You can’t be stiff, or loose, it’s a mixture in between. You’ve each been given a musical score, and the notes. Everyone come up to the piano.”

The girls crowded around him, and Yoochun played two measures before he realized that Jaejoong was still sitting down. Their eyes met.

“Jaejoong-shi.”

“I … I don’t feel well, Sonsaengnim.”

Yoochun normally wouldn’t care, but the way Jaejoong’s cheeks flushed, and the way he looked close to frustrated tears, softened his heart and he nodded. “Pay attention, okay?”

“I-I am.”

Yoochun continued his lesson, showing how to twist your finger for a different beat, turn your wrist the way your instructor always told you not to in order to rip a different feel from the note. He moved from the bench and let two of the girls try. But he watched Jaejoong. His finger tapped the desk to the beat.

Yoochun knew the boy loved music. His mother had said that music calls to him. Yoochun knew what that meant for himself, but he wondered what it meant for Jaejoong.

After class, Yoochun called Jaejoong to a halt. The boy turned around and looked at the floor, trying not to fidget. His lower lip was clasped between his white teeth.

“I expect you to play and participate in this class, Jaejoong,” Yoochun started.

The boy nodded and muttered another apology.

“Our individual lesson is tomorrow. You are going to show up, right?”

Jaejoong nodded fast. “I-I have to.”

“Is that the only reason why, because you have to?”

Jaejoong did not reply.

Yoochun sighed. “You will not learn if you’re only doing this because you have to. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, Sonsaengnim Park,” Jaejoong muttered and slipped out of the class.

Yoochun sat at his desk with a sigh.

♪-♪-♪

Yoochun had a lot of problems getting Yuri to concentrate on their lesson. She spent too much time staring at him with wide-infatuated eyes.

And then Yoochun had a lot of problems concentrating on Soonli’s lesson because Jaejoong was next.

He finally managed to get the girl to leave. And then he sighed, head on his desk. He needed a cigarette. He checked the time. He had fifteen minutes before Jaejoong’s lesson. Slipping on his jacket, he left the music room and headed outside. The wind blew his hair into his face. He huffed in annoyance and pushed it behind his ears. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, he checked his pockets and cursed. Where was his lighter? He had it earlier.

“Sonsaengnim,” a quiet voice said.

Yoochun turned. Jaejoong stood a few feet from him, a green lighter in his hand. Yoochun stared at him, even after Jaejoong looked at the ground.

“Th-thanks,” Yoochun said. He took the lighter, careful not to touch that soft looking skin.

Jaejoong sucked on a drag from his own cigarette.

“Looks like we had the same idea,” Yoochun said as he tried to light his cigarette. The wind blew out the flame. Jaejoong stepped closer and added his hands to the barrier Yoochun tried to make. He finally got the end burning and sucked in a drag.

“Thanks,” Yoochun said, handing the lighter back.

After a minute, Jaejoong said, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to lecture me about smoking?”

Yoochun smiled and blew out a plume of smoke. “A wee bit hypocritical, ne?”

“Doesn’t stop most adults.”

“I started smoking when I was younger than you, Jaejoong. It’s a bad and expensive habit, but it’s a necessity some days.”

“Yeah.”

Jaejoong turned and smashed the butt into the ash tray.

“What are you listening to?” Yoochun asked, noting the white earphone.

“Um … Carmen, Bizet.”

“Good choice. Can you play the score?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. I … I’ve never seen the music for it, but it’s not that hard.”

Yoochun stared at him. The Bizet score was ‘not that hard’? He had a sudden urge to hear this kid play.

“Show me,” Yoochun said. He put out his cigarette.

“I … I … do I have to play, Sonsaengnim?”

“Yes, you do. Come on.”

Yoochun held the door open for him and led the way back to the classroom.

“I mean … we can … talk about theory, or musical history, or …”

“You’re playing. And I want to hear Carmen.”

Once in the classroom, Jaejoong headed to where he normally sat, but Yoochun was faster and snagged the strap on his bag. “Piano. Sit.”

“Please don’t make me,” Jaejoong whispered.

Yoochun dragged him over and pushed his shoulders down. Jaejoong sat, shaking, hands gripped tight in his lap. Yoochun sighed, spun him around and sat next to him. He yanked on Jaejoong’s bag, until Jaejoong whined and let it fall. His hands went back to his lap.

“Why do you hate playing so much?” Yoochun whispered. He put his fingers on the keys and started playing a soft melody.

“H-hate? H-ate? I … hyung-um, songsaengnim. I don’t hate it.”

“Then why won’t you play?”

“Is there such a thing as loving something too much?”

Yoochun shrugged. “Maybe. I think if we loved cigarettes too much, that would be bad, but playing the piano, no. You can’t love that too much.”

“I do.”

“Then why won’t you play?”

Jaejoong shook his head. His eyes trained on Yoochun’s fingers moving over the keys. Yoochun watched him. He had a hunch about this kid. He said, “Play what you’re listening to, Jaejoong. Please.”

Jaejoong sighed.

“If you refuse to play, I’m going to have to kick you out of the class,” Yoochun added.

“I know.”

“You want me to kick you out?”

“N-no, but …”

Yoochun stopped playing. He reached down and picked up the loose earphone. He slipped it into his ear and listened to “The Toreador Song”.

“Play, Jaejoong.”

Jaejoong sighed. He loosened the death grip on his own hand and reached for the keys. He stopped, long, beautiful fingers barely grazing the ivory. The bridge of the song ended, and as if Jaejoong had been playing all along, he picked up the melody and his fingers flew over the keys. He hit a few sour notes, and then Yoochun realized that Jaejoong was improvising, changing the beat just a little, making it jazzy, making it jerk and twirl through his fingers. It’s everything Yoochun had lectured about the day before. He took the earbud out and just listened to Jaejoong play. Over and over, and then suddenly the notes changed and Jaejoong hit the keys harder, fingers slowing.

Yoochun tore his gaze from Jaejoong’s hands and saw that the boy was crying.

“Jaejoong.”

And just like that, Jaejoong stopped. He pushed all the keys at once, made a noise of utter shame, and then jerked off the piano bench. Yoochun was after him in a moment, stopping him before he could open the door.

“Jaejoong wait, what … that was amazing. Why …”

“Let me go, let me go, please let me go.”

Yoochun didn’t, but turned Jaejoong forcefully around, his back against the door. Firm fingers gripped his cheeks and lifted Jaejoong’s tear stained face.

“Look at me,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong shook his head.

Yoochun shook him, and said it again.

Jaejoong’s eyes fluttered open.

“What’s wrong? That was beautiful. You’re amazing.”

His eyes shut, spilling more tears down his cheeks.

“Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t.” His pink cheeks turned red.

“Will you play for me again, please?”

“I … I don’t want to.”

“Why not? Tell me why not, or I’m going to make you play.”

Jaejoong turned his head, and hugged himself. Yoochun let him go and took a step back, to give him space. Instead of talking, Jaejoong went back to the piano. Yoochun waited until soft notes filled the room, and then went back to the bench. He sat on the very edge to make sure he didn’t get in Jaejoong’s way. The melody turned sharp, painful, and Jaejoong’s fingers flew over the keys.

It was not a song that Yoochun recognized and after five minutes, he realized that it wasn’t a song at all. Jaejoong was playing. Improvising.

“Jazz it up, Jae,” he whispered. And immediately the song changed, and Yoochun was transported to dark piano bars, slow music, fast whiskey, crazy love. He slid over closer to Jaejoong and Jaejoong moved down the keys, not losing the feel or the key. Yoochun added a high refrain to it. Their hands brushed and rolled over the other reaching for the same keys.

A few minutes later, Jaejoong stopped, body shaking. He turned away from Yoochun and curled in on himself.

“Too much,” Jaejoong whispered. “I … can I take a break?”

“Sure. We still have an hour though.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Jaejoong stood up and even though he went right to the door, Yoochun finally had an idea as to why Jaejoong was so embarrassed. The kid had an erection.

Yoochun took a deep breath. He went to play and then realized that even in all his years, he could never produce anything like what Jaejoong just played. The kid was amazing.

He watched the clock. Ten minutes later, Jaejoong came back, face flushed. Erection gone. It made Yoochun smirk a bit, but only to himself.

“You okay?” he asked.

Jaejoong nodded. “Yeah … just. Sorry.” His cheeks went even redder.

Yoochun wondered for a minute if it was because of him, or if it was just because of the piano. A small part of him wanted it to be from him, but he was almost ten years older than Jaejoong.

“Now what?” Jaejoong said, sitting on a desk.

“You’re an amazing pianist, Jaejoong.”

“Th-thanks, hyung.”

“I can already tell that what I’m going to be lecturing on in class isn’t advanced enough for you. Do you ever write your own music? Not improvising like you just did, but write it down, create a song?”

Jaejoong shook his head. His pink tongue stuck out of his mouth and then he said, “I … I get frustrated, because it doesn’t sound good on paper.”

Yoochun smiled. “Oh, god, I know. Sounds so much better in my head, huh?”

Jaejoong nodded. “I … I don’t like stopping to write something down. I just like to play.”

“Why did you make such a huff about playing then?”

Jaejoong looked away.

“I’m pretty sure I can make a guess, but I won’t embarrass you more.” Yoochun ignored him when Jaejoong’s head shot up. “Just know that you’re not the only one that likes playing that much.” He stood up, not bothering to hide his half hard cock, although it more from Jaejoong than playing but he could use it to convince Jaejoong (and himself) otherwise. He went to the bookshelf and pulled off a ‘musical composition’ book.

“Let’s start with some basics then,” he said. He sat in the desk next to Jaejoong’s, ignoring his questioning look, and started teaching.

Near the end of the hour, Yoochun said, “In two weeks I want you to bring me a song. Short, only a couple minutes, and fast paced. Okay?”

Jaejoong bit his lip. “Okay.”

“And on Monday, you’re playing in class.”

Jaejoong’s eyes widened with panic, and Yoochun shook his head. “Don’t even try to get out of it, Jaejoong. If you go one more day without playing, the rest of the girls are going to start wondering. They know you’re shy.”

Jaejoong looked at his lap, panicked.

Yoochun watched him. It really wasn’t fair to the kid that his body betrayed him and made his favorite thing something to be ashamed of.

“You’ll play last, okay? Just before the end of class. That way, the girls can take off before you … yeah.”

Jaejoong blushed, and it made Yoochun chuckle. Before he could stop himself, he brushed his fingers over the warm skin of Jaejoong’s cheek. “Don’t be embarrassed about it, dongsaeng,” Yoochun said, slipping easily into the familiar speech.

“Th-thanks, hy-hyung.”


	2. Holey Jeans

The girls loved Jaejoong on the piano. They crowded around him as he played and awed at how his fingers moved, and Soonli and Meena managed to sit on each side of him. Yoochun sat back and watched Jaejoong’s face as he blushed from actual embarrassment from the praise of his classmates. He was in a world so much higher than them, so much higher than Yoochun. Yoochun did not need to teach him how to play at all, but only had to be there for him so he could break out of his shell.

And maybe he’d get to help get rid of a few erections. But that was his dreams talking.

His cock twitched in his pants. “That’s enough,” he said more to himself than his students. “Thank you for playing today, Jaejoong.”

“Is class over already?” Meena said. “Play some more, Jaejoong, please.”

Jaejoong shook his head.

“Meena,” Yoochun said. “Let him alone.”

“Sorry, Sonsaengnim.”

The girls trickled out of the classroom, a few shooting wistful glances at Jaejoong.

“I think they’re more in love with you now than me,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong looked at his lap, blushing crimson. “I … I don’t really like girls,” Jaejoong said softly.

Yoochun understood. There were enough of them at Jaejoong’s house with his eight older sisters.

“Hy-hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do-do you mind if I stay for a little longer?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Th-thanks. I … I don’t play at home.”

Yoochun also understood that. He had a few emails to answer. Four of his student’s parents were already demanding to know of their daughters’ progress. He sat as his desk and listened to Jaejoong play. At first it was nonsense, and then the notes joined, concreted, firmed.

“Want some paper?” Yoochun asked, as Jaejoong slowed the notes down, playing that melody again and again.

“N-no.”

“Okay.”

Yoochun didn’t write his emails. He stared at Jaejoong. The kid gave no indication of knowing that he was under scrutiny. His bangs hung in his eyes. But it didn’t matter too much since his eyes stayed shut, long black lashes brushing the soft skin of his cheeks. There was a small bump in his nose, a few freckles on his cheek. His lower lip once again was pressed between his teeth, and then that tongue ran over his lower lip, sticking out in concentration.

Yoochun did not realize how late it was until the light in the room turned red with the sunset.

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong jumped, eyes wild until they settled on Yoochun.

Yoochun smiled. “Time to go.”

He swallowed and then nodded. Yoochun stood up. Jaejoong’s cheeks went very very red as Yoochun caught him sneaking a look at his crotch.

“I wasn’t playing,” Yoochun said as an explanation.

Jaejoong cleared his throat, and when he stood up, his erection was on display in his pants, and Yoochun had to tear his eyes away from it. How did a fifteen year old have a bulge like that one? And then his cock stirred.

Yoochun tried to will it away as he put on his jacket. Jaejoong hefted his bag and a moment later put in his earphones. Yoochun led the way out of the classroom, turning off the light and locking the door. Jaejoong walked ahead of him, not turning around until they were outside.

“Hy-Sonsaengnim,” Jaejoong said.

Yoochun frowned, and then realized that Jaejoong was right. It wouldn’t be proper for Jaejoong to call him hyung out of that classroom.

“Can I bum a smoke?”

“Sure.” Yoochun dug into his pocket for his cigarettes. “You want a ride home?”

“N-no. I … I might … later. I’ll go home later.”

Yoochun handed him the cigarette, and then lit it for him. He swallowed as Jaejoong’s cheeks hallowed in on the first drag. “Everything alright at home?”

Jaejoong shrugged. “Sure.”

“That didn’t sound convincing.”

“I … it’s okay.”

“It’s getting late, Jaejoong.”

“I’m always out late,” Jaejoong replied. “See you Wednesday.”

Yoochun watched as Jaejoong hefted his backpack and walked away. He lifted the hood up on his jacket, and then his hands were shoved into the pockets.

Yoochun lit a cigarette.

♪-♪-♪

Thursday, Jaejoong was late. He slid into the classroom, gasping out apologies. Yoochun hadn’t started to worry yet.

“I … yeah, sorry.” Jaejoong ducked his head, and sat at the piano.

Yoochun smiled and said, “That’s okay. You’re not in uniform.”

“I … ran here, from … I lost track of time.”

Yoochun opened his mouth to reprimand him, but Jaejoong started playing. And as he watched, he noticed how very different this Jaejoong was than the one who was in his class. His blue jeans were ripped at the knees, thighs, and there was even a small hole in the butt. The white fabric stretched tight over that hole, and Yoochun couldn’t decide if it was intentional or only worn. They weren’t skinny jeans, but they weren’t too loose either. Up and down one leg were safety pins of varying lengths and sizes. He had on a chain belt, and the end lay along the bench.

A black t-shirt stretched across his wiry shoulders. The sleeves of the t-shirt bunched over the beginning promise of muscles, and after a moment, Jaejoong took one hand off the piano to push the sleeves up, out of his way. His pants slipped low enough and the shirt rode high enough that Yoochun could see the “Calvin Klein” band of his boxers.

Yoochun had to lick his lips, trying to get moisture back into his mouth.

There were piercings in his ears. Four in the right ear that Yoochun could see. Silver dangled around his neck.

The only coherent thought in Yoochun’s mind was what Jaejoong’s erection would look like in those jeans.

Jaejoong immediately started working on a familiar melody, but this time he added variations to it. Yoochun had planned on teaching Jaejoong how to harmonize. The kid could do it on the piano, but it was important that he learned to do it on paper too.

Instead, he let Jaejoong play.

It was such a different experience. Out of his school clothes, Jaejoong looked older, harder, … more seasoned, and Yoochun knew he was trying to rationalize the erection tenting his dress pants. This Jaejoong was fierce. The color on his cheeks was no longer shame, but determination and anger.

Yoochun grew tired of watching. He stood up and gravitated to the piano bench. Jaejoong slid over, and Yoochun sat down, their thighs pressed together. He leaned forward enough to watch Jaejoong’s face as he played.

His eyebrow was pierced. Yoochun wanted to touch it.

His eyes stayed shut for long minutes, fluttered open when he breathed, and then shut again. One time, he noticed Yoochun watching him and his finger slipped on a note, and he swallowed when he should have breathed.

“I love watching you play,” Yoochun said, voice barely above a whisper.

Jaejoong swallowed again, but didn’t stop playing. He used the keys and the music as a guard against the way Yoochun was looking at him. It was so hard to care.

Jaejoong didn’t stop playing for almost an hour.

And then with breath short and face flushed and wild, he stopped, looked away from Yoochun, and leaned a hand on the bench for support. Yoochun let his eyes fall to Jaejoong’s lap, and the erection pushed up against the front of his jeans. Button fly jeans. Yoochun’s favorite.

“When you play,” Yoochun said, “you remind me of life before I started teaching, when I was working my way through bars, begging for a bite to eat in exchange for a live musician.”

Jaejoong looked at him, eyes wide. “You …”

“I used to be homeless, Jaejoong. The piano is all I had. Well, that and cigarettes. A few more nefarious things like coke, and lovers, and alcohol, but there’s only so many times you can wake up with a headache in a stranger’s bed with a stranger’s drying come on your thighs, and throw up little more than alcohol before it starts getting old. People grow up.”

“How… How did you end up teaching?” Jaejoong asked.

Yoochun slid his fingers along the lower keys. He wanted to feel Jaejoong’s thighs under his fingertips. He hit a sharp chord, and then another one.

“A family friend had promised me solace, and I turned him down until I was twenty. I sought his help, and he took me in. I managed to kick all my habits by drowning myself in the piano. Well, except smoking. Should we go take a break?”

Jaejoong smiled. “What do you need a break from? You haven’t done anything.”

Yoochun stood up and stretched. He saw the way Jaejoong’s gaze trailed down his body, and then Yoochun turned away. He went to his desk to grab his jacket. “You have no idea how hard it is not to jump you when you’re playing,” Yoochun said. “Trust me. It takes a lot of effort.”

Jaejoong’s cheeks turned almost red, and he looked away, chest rising with his heavy breathing. Yoochun’s mind superimposed that image below him, and then gave himself a shake.

“Come on. Let’s go have a cigarette.”

Jaejoong stood up, and Yoochun unabashedly looked at his crotch. Jaejoong made a noise and turned, throwing his black hoody back on. Yoochun followed him out the door. His cock was being stubborn, and refusing to go down, but again, out of school clothes, Jaejoong moved so differently. His movements morphed into each other, they flowed like music. And Yoochun wondered if it was the uniform or just that Jaejoong was used to his presence.

Outside, the wind blew cold. They stayed near the doors, and each lit their own cigarette.

“Hyung? Why were you homeless?”

Yoochun held a drag in his lungs before puffing it out. “I left home when I was fourteen. Not by choice. I was rebellious and … my family was poor, Jaejoong. My mother tried very hard to feed my younger brother and me, while my father spent his meager paycheck on alcohol and loose women. When my father started throwing those women at me, I told him I’d rather fuck a boy and well, yeah … no more home.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t feel bad for me, Jaejoong. I survived.”

“What … what happened to your family?”

“My mom finally left my dad. She lives with her sister now, and I send her money when I can. Most of my paycheck goes to pay my brother’s tuition. He’s studying Veterinarian Medicine.”

“And you never went to college?”

“Nope.”

“How … How did you get hired here?”

Yoochun looked at him. He smiled. “I’ll show you.” He doused his cigarette and they went back to the classroom. He sat at the piano and nodded at a chair. “Name a score.”

“What?”

“Name a classical score.”

“Anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Saturn …”

Before Jaejoong finished saying it, Yoochun was playing it. He played for about two minutes and said, “Give me another one.”

Jaejoong said, “Tchaikovsky” and the “Fur Elise” and then another and another. Yoochun played them all.

“How … hyung, how …”

“You’re not the only gifted one, Jaejoong,” Yoochun said, “though you’re better than I am. You have a heart for music. A sense of it. What you have is not something that can be taught. You should be writing concertos, which is why I’m going to teach you how to write music.”

Jaejoong blushed and looked away.

“Come and play. I’m actually going to use the last half hour and try to teach you what I meant to teach you instead of staring at you. You need to learn to control your music, not let it control you.”

Jaejoong’s tongue slipped over his lower lip. “O-okay.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have any problems with the idea of writing music, I think you’re going to have to have problems with the patience it requires.”

Jaejoong scrunched his face in a pout that did not match the attitude of his clothes.

“You already know how to do this, Jaejoong. I can tell when you’re playing. You need to learn to write it and give your music structure.”

Yoochun leaned over to the desk and grabbed a notebook. “Come on. Sit. Play the strain that you’ve been messing with the last couple days. And just the main notes. Nothing more.”

Jaejoong sat down, fingers on the keys and he played the simplest version of the light melody. Yoochun jotted down the notes.

“Now, play with it. I don’t want to hear you continue on, but I want to hear this strain, these sixteen notes, repeated with your variations. After each one, write down the notes you played, and then go. Again and again, until you have something you’re happy with.”

“But, hyung, that’s what I do when I just play.”

“I know. But you lose your structure. Do it. You have a thirty minutes.”

“Fine.” Jaejoong put his hands on Yoochun’s hips and pushed him. “Go away. I can do this myself.”

Yoochun smiled. “If you start getting lost in the music, I’m going to smack the back of your head.”

Jaejoong made a face that definitely went with the attitude of the clothes. Yoochun stood up and went to his desk. Yoochun sat back and crossed his arms. The simple strain was played again, and then again, with harmonized notes. Jaejoong stopped, leaned over the piano and wrote on the paper. Yoochun’s eyes traveled down his back. The t-shirt rode up even more. The skin of his back was as pale as his face. And so smooth.

And young, Yoochun reminded himself even as he licked his lips. Too young.

Every time Jaejoong stopped to write, he flicked his bangs out of his eyes. With a frustrated sigh, he dug in his pocket, pulled out a clip, and yanked his bangs back. Slightly lighter hair was revealed. Roots showing through the black. Yoochun imagined him as a blond, red hair, brunette, brown. Then blue and then green. Any color would look good with his skin. Any color would make him more and more attractive.

A minute later, he realized that Jaejoong had started playing randomly again.

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong lifted his hands from the keys, startled.

“Now I bet you can’t remember what you were playing enough to write it down.”

“Fuck,” Jaejoong muttered, and then blushed. “Eh, sorry, hy-hyung.”

“It sounded nice, but the purpose is to make it so I can play it when you’re done.”

Jaejoong nodded, and went back to work.

“Think of it as a story,” Yoochun said. He opened a drawer and took out a sheet of music that he had written a few weeks before. He moved to the piano bench and sat next to Jaejoong. Jaejoong stopped playing. “I know you’ve heard this before, but have you seen it, on a musical score? Something tells me you don’t use music very often.”

Jaejoong shook his head. “I don’t really need it.”

“Which is a lie. Every musician needs a score. Look. At the beginning, how the notes flow. It’s like the beginning of a story. You’re learning about the characters, who they are, what they look like. Then the farther along you go, you learn about the problems they face and have to overcome.” Yoochun pointed to where the melody changed. “As the problems pile up and pile up and pile up, so do the changes in the music. Until there’s a moment, a climax, and then the story tails off, and the song ends.”

Jaejoong frowned. “But I’m playing songs.”

“When you play, you stay about here.” He pointed to the beginning. “The music is beautiful, but it never grows. You can play like this for hours and hours. You can change the notes and the tempo, but without the structure of a score, you’ll never be playing a song.”

“I don’t want my music to be like everyone else’s,” Jaejoong said. “Um, no offense, hyung.”

Yoochun smiled. “That’s the first time I’ve hear you refer to it as my music, so none taken. Look, Jaejoong, you don’t have to follow this as it is. You can have a huge climatic scene in the middle of your song, or at the beginning and then at the end, but it needs to go somewhere. It can’t just weave around itself. That’s the kind of music you make when you’re warming up, or when you have no set time and no one is really playing attention to you. It’s background. You want to be at the front.”

“O-okay, hyung.” Jaejoong looked up at the wall. His time was almost up. “C-can I play this?” he asked and pointed to Yoochun’s music.

“Sure. Let me go grab the rest of it.”

Jaejoong’s fingers trailed through the melody while Yoochun went to the drawer. The music was unfinished, but it’d be good to hear someone else play it.

“You have messy handwriting,” Jaejoong said.

“It’s not done yet. I’ll make a pretty copy when I’m done with it.” Yoochun set the score in front of Jaejoong, and after scanning through the music once, he started playing. He didn’t read music nearly as well as he played the piano, and Yoochun figured that would be something else to help him with. Not that he was bad. He played the song all the way through, only losing the tempo a few times, and fingers hitting the wrong notes.

“I don’t like this part, hyung,” Jaejoong said, pointing to a spot near the middle. A spot that Yoochun was having issues with.

Yoochun opened his mouth to agree and then Jaejoong played it again, and then again, and then he changed it.

“That’s better,” Jaejoong said.

And Yoochun nodded. “What keys are you hitting?”

Jaejoong played the notes slowly and Yoochun scribbled them down. “Fabulous. Thanks. That section has been pissing me off for weeks.”

Jaejoong looked up at the clock again and sighed. His lesson ended fifteen minutes ago.

“Do you need a ride home?”

Jaejoong made a face. “No.”

“Somewhere else, then?”

Jaejoong met his eyes. They stared at each other and Yoochun had a feeling that Jaejoong was actually considering it.

He shook his head. “No. I’ll walk.”

“Make sure you get something to eat tonight,” Yoochun said, turning away so Jaejoong wouldn’t see the disappointment on his face. He was a caring teacher. That was all. A caring teacher.

_That wants to have sex with his student._

Yoochun scowled.

“Th-Thanks, hyung,” Jaejoong said, and the door shut quietly behind him.


	3. Shaken Chords

Yoochun forwent his teacher work and spent the weekend finishing that song. And the only title he could come up with was “Safety Pins”. He didn’t know why. There were a lot of short notes, a lot of moments of pain, and yet it held everything together.

It had nothing to do with the jeans Jaejoong had been wearing. Nothing.

Yoochun was up late Sunday night grading musical essay he had assigned. He was disappointed in Jaejoong’s brief analysis of modern musical formats used in classical ballets or operas. It could have been so much better. It hurt Yoochun to put a B- at the top, but if Jaejoong wanted a good grade, he’d have to work for it.

Monday morning, Yoochun felt like shit. He sucked down coffee, and then more coffee. When he walked into class, a pang of disappointment flared through him when he saw Jaejoong wearing his uniform, as he was supposed to.

“Good morning, Sonsaengnim Park,” the girls chorused.

Yoochun nodded a greeting. Jaejoong didn’t lift his eyes from the desk, once again, the bashful student. Yoochun had to shut his eyes and go to his desk to “collect” himself.

“How are your projects coming along?” Yoochun asked. Jaejoong wasn’t the only student, and he had to remind himself of that. The girls all had things they were working on.

He spent a few minutes answering questions, and then as Jaejoong continued to avoid him by looking down, Yoochun asked, “What about you, Jaejoong? Everything okay.”

Jaejoong lifted his head, and Yoochun knew there was something different, but … No, no piercing, not hair clip. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m okay, Sonsaengnim. Thank you for asking.”

Jaejoong was not okay. Yoochun turned away from them and started his lecture on how jazz changed the way people looked at music. At the end of class, he had Yuri, Yunyoung and Seonhee play in front of them all. Jaejoong gripped his fingers together in a white knuckled grip, again not joining the others at the piano.

“Can Jaejoong play next?” Jaelin asked, smiling at him.

“Class is over,” Yoochun said. “It’s up to him.”

Jaejoong looked up and tried to smile. “Next time,” he whispered.

“Okay,” they said, and the girls pouted. They chattered amongst themselves about jazz and blue grass.

Yoochun waited until they were all gone, and then rose and shut the door. “What’s wrong?”

Jaejoong crossed his arms on the desk, put his head on his arms. Yoochun walked down the aisle and sat next to him. Carefully, he placed a hand on Jaejoong’s shoulder. Jaejoong flinched and then relaxed.

“You look exhausted,” Yoochun whispered.

Jaejoong nodded. “It’s been a long weekend. C-can I play?”

“Of course.”

Jaejoong stood up, and took his bag to the piano. He unzipped it and pulled out the music sheets. Yoochun stayed at the desk and watched.

Jaejoong’s school jacket slipped off his shoulders.

And that’s what was different. Jaejoong wasn’t wearing his school shirt, just a wife beater. There was a bruise on his shoulder. Yoochun frowned. And then he realized why Jaejoong looked different. The side of his face was swollen and the color was off, like he was wearing make up.

Jaejoong played the song he’d been writing on Thursday.

“Hyung?”

“Huh?”

“What do you think I’ll end up doing with my life?”

“That’s a pretty deep question, Jaejoong. I don’t know. You’re still young. It’s okay for you to not know.”

The notes changed, and Jaejoong stopped talking. Yoochun watched him compose for almost an hour. Frustration waved off Jaejoong. He suddenly seemed so much older than his fifteen years, and not in a good way. Yoochun stood up, stretching from sitting in a small desk for so long. He went to the piano bench. Jaejoong fingers slammed on the same six chords over and over. Yoochun wasn’t surprised to see him crying. He sat down and put his arms around Jaejoong’s shoulders. He didn’t stop playing for a few more chords, and then his fingers stilledand he leaned against Yoochun.

Yoochun tried not to think of how soft Jaejoong’s skin was, how good his hair smelled. His body shivered, and Yoochun shut his eyes with a sigh.

“T-thanks, hyung. I-I’m going to go now.”

“Where?”

Jaejoong stilled.

“You should go home.”

“Yeah, because that’s such a better place.”

Yoochun let him go when Jaejoong struggled to get up. He put his school jacket back on, and then sighed. “Do you have a lighter, hyung?”

“Yeah.” Yoochun went to his desk and grabbed his jacket. He found his lighter, turned around and had an armful of Jaejoong. Jaejoong’s hands slid around his waist, his face pushed against his chest. Yoochun had so many options, and he picked the ones not quite ethical. He slipped the lighter into Jaejoong’s pants pocket, splaying his fingers around the bony hip.

Jaejoong sighed, breath shuddering as he let it free.

Yoochun put his arms around Jaejoong’s waist, drawing him closer. Jaejoong’s warm breath heated his skin through his shirt. Yoochun lifted Jaejoong’s jacket, hand splayed over his back, and the other ran up, over his shoulder. He carded his fingers through Jaejooong’s hair and it was softer than he thought it would be.

“One question,” Yoochun said as Jaejoong’s body shook harder.

“Hm?”

“Are you doing drugs?”

Jaejoong’s shoulders sagged. “Not the question I was expecting.”

“Answer it.”

“A-a little.”

“What does that mean?”

“God, what do you care?” Jaejoong twisted his head and pushed away from him.

Yoochun knew that saying _I’m your teacher_ would be a really bad move. “I’m worried about you.” He stepped closer and touched Jaejoong’s bruised shoulder. “This looks like it hurts, and you have makeup on, and your cheek is a little swollen.”

“I - I got in a fight. That’s all.”

Yoochun didn’t understand. Jaejoong had perfect grades last year, perfect attendance. “I’m going to call your parents.”

“What?” Jaejoong flipped around, eyes narrowed in anger.

“They … they haven’t called to ask about you like the others’ parents have. So I’m going to call them and tell them how you’re doing.”

“If they cared,” Jaejoong said through clenched teeth, “they would have called.”

Jaejoong spun away. He picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder. The door slammed behind him.

He went to his files, found Jaejoong’s home number and called. A servant answered, and Yoochun left a message. He sat at his desk and thought about Jaejoong. There were a lot of reasons why a rich man’s son would act up, do drugs, pierce his eyebrow. A lack of attention at home, or too much of the wrong kind of attention.

Jaejoong had eight older sisters that all lived on the family estate. They had husbands and some had children. Jaejoong was lost in the shuffle. Yoochun knew his mother had been sick lately, but when she had called, she’d praised Jaejoong so much. Yoochun hadn’t felt that conversation had been fake.

It was possible that Jaejoong got involved with the wrong crowd. It was easy to do. Yoochun had first hand experience with it.

The bruises could have been from a fight, or from a parental beating. Yoochun sighed. He’d wait until Jaejoong opened up to him. No matter how attractive he was, Yoochun was his teacher first, his protector, his responsibility.

♪-♪-♪

Yoochun was just finishing his lesson with Jaelin on Tuesday afternoon when she suddenly stopped playing. “Sonsaengnim Park.”

“Yes, Jaelin?”

“Um, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I … I like this boy, and it’s embarrassing to ask you because you’re a boy but none of my other teachers are cool like you are and I want to know how to get his attention.”

Yoochun had a distinct idea who this boy was. “Does he know you?”

She blushed and nodded. “We … we have a class together, but … but all the girls like him.”

“Ah,” Yoochun said. “Then you’ll just have to find a way to make yourself stand out from the rest of them.”

Jaelin pouted and said, “I don’t know how to do that. I …”

“Try being yourself around him. Don’t bring him treats or gifts, but say hello to him, preferably without acting like he’s a pop idol and swooning.”

Jaelin nodded. “I … I think I can do that.”

“He’ll be more drawn to someone that wants to be his friend than someone who worships him.”

“Thanks, Sonsaengnim Park. I … I’ll try. But he’s so pretty.” She shut her mouth with an eep, and Yoochun smiled. He didn’t blame this girl one bit. Jaejoong was indeed pretty.

He praised the girl for her lesson (she was working so hard to be able to change music like Jaejoong could). Yoochun sighed after she left. He took out his phone and called Jaejoong’s parents again, and again left a message for them.

Wednesday, Yoochun almost had a heart attack when he came into class. Jaejoong was sitting in the front row. The girls surrounded Jaejoong and cooed over his newly dyed hair. It was burgundy. The back was short and his bangs brushed over his forehead.

The best part was Jaejoong’s smile. He’d grown accustomed to their worship over the last two weeks and he was more or less comfortable with them now. Yoochun was glad. Jaejoong needed friends. Good friends. Friends with the same interests as him that didn’t involve drugs.

“Ladies, a little less studying of Jaejoong and a little more studying of music.”

More than one girl sighed as they took their seats. Yoochun watched Jaelin, and she smiled at Jaejoong, blushing and then turned away.

Yoochun had a hard time concentrating on his lesson, so he cut it short. He sat at the piano and said, “I dont’ know if I mentioned this,” his fingers found the keys and he started playing a jazzy refrain, “but I used to work as a lounge singer.”

The girls ooh-ed.

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, trust me. Anyway. I wrote a lot of music back then, and I’ve decided that for your next recital, not this one, but next month, you’re all going to perform your own song. You’re all at a point in your musical abilities where you can take music and make it do what you want it to do. I don’t care what genre you want to play, and if you want to sing, you can. I’m going to sing you a song, but you have to promise me that you won’t tell your parents. It’s not exactly appropriate for fifteen-year-olds, but I think you’re all grown up enough to hear it.”

_The first time he touched me  
my head twisted through clouds  
The second time he killed me  
pain laced down my limbs_

_The next time we met  
our kisses burned with tears  
The last time he raped me  
my heart was torn away_

_i love you means so little  
i love you can’t be true  
i love you hurts the most  
i love you means i hate you_

Yoochun felt his throat closing up during the instrumental break. His fingers hit the keys harder than he meant to. He hadn’t sung this song in so long.

_The first time without him  
my tears ruined everything  
the second time without him  
my heart beat a little faster_

_Ripped and torn, left alone  
i love you becomes anguish  
broken and sore, all alone_

_i love you is a lie  
i love you is a farce  
i love you is a joke  
i love you is only a line_

_i still love you._

He let the last notes die through the room. A few of the girls looked close to tears. Yoochun met Jaejoong’s eyes. His cold, disinterested, beautiful mask was firmly in place.

“That was really good, Sonsaengnim,” Meena said in the silence.

Yoochun smiled. “Thank you, Meena.” He cleared his throat. “Who here has written a song before? Who wants to share it? Don’t you dare say, but it’s not as good as yours, because I’m here to teach you, not to flaunt my own abilities.”

Soonli raised her hand and she said, “I … it’s okay if there aren’t lyrics?”

Yoochun nodded. “Yes, not everyone can write lyrics.”

Soonli came up to the piano. Her song was light and pretty, with a high refrain that had her fingers plucking at the upper octave. It made Yoochun smile, and the girls clapped. He pointed out a few places to improve it. And then Yuri was next.

“Jaejoong-oppa,” Jaelin said with a grin. “You said you’d play today.”

“Don’t make him, Jaelin,” Yoochun said.

But Jaejoong smiled. “I’ll play, but … but I haven’t written anything before.”

“You’ll learn,” Yoochun said with a smile.

Jaejoong sat on the piano bench. Yoochun noted that his uniform was perfect that day. Nothing to let Yoochun know he’d had any problems. Just a different hair cut that suited his features so well. He started playing Louis Armstrong’s Dream a Little Dream. The girls giggled a little and then Jaejoong started singing, voice rough just like Armstrong’s, and the girls squealed. His English wasn’t perfect, but it made Yoochun smile.

“Sing another one,” Yuri demanded.

He sang “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen”. And then class ended and more than one girl hugged Jaejoong while he was still playing.

“Thanks for playing, Jaejoong,” Jaelin said. “I like to hear you play.”

Jaejoong swallowed and looked away. “Y-you’re … you play good, too.”

She smiled like the world had just given her everything she wanted, and then she said goodbye to Yoochun and flounced out of the room.

Jaejoong kept playing a small jazzy beat while Yoochun gathered his things.

“I think she likes you,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong snorted.

“Yeah, I know. You don’t like girls. Neither do I.”

Yoochun watched as Jaejoong’s cheeks went red.

“Were you raped?” Jaejoong suddenly asked.

Yoochun froze, and then cleared his throat. “No. I was young and stupid.”

Jaejoong nodded. The notes he played turned bitter, sharp. “So are you out to save me from myself?”

“Of course not. Am I worried about you? Yes, because it’s a hard life when you have no other options. You have other options.”

Jaejoong made a noise like he was trying not to cry. Yoochun moved to the piano, and let himself cave to temptation. He ran his hands through Jaejoong’s hair.

“I like it,” he said. Yoochun let his fingers trace over Jaejoong’s ear. “Wear jeans tomorrow.”

“W-why?” Jaejoong shivered as Yoochun touched his jaw, caressed his neck. He let out a deep breath, and his fingers slowed on the keys.

“Just because,” Yoochun answered. His cock was slowly hardening in his pants. “Can I play, too?”

“S-sure.” Jaejoong slid over and Yoochun took the lower notes. They sat and Yoochun put his leg behind Jaejoong’s, nudging until his foot was on the main pedal and Jaejoong’s leg was hooked over his thigh. He met Jaejoong’s slow pace on the keys.

“You have a great voice, Jaejoong,” Yoochun said. “Are you going to sing at your recital?”

“N-no. I don’t like to sing for people.”

“You sang today.”

“It’s … it’s just the girls. And you. No big deal.”

“Are you afraid to be really, really good?” Jaejoong’s fingers stopped. “Or are you afraid that no one will notice?”

Jaejoong sighed and leaned against him. Yoochun took one hand off the keys and put it around Jaejoong’s waist. Jaejoong’s hand rested against his thigh, fingers picking at the fabric. He shifted until his head was on Yoochun’s shoulder. Their hands found a melody, Yoochun bass, Jaejoong treble.

“Don’t do drugs, Jaejoong. Nothing else is as dangerous. I can’t lecture you about what you do and don’t do, but from a recovering addict, just take my advice and stop now before it gets worse.”

Jaejoong stopped playing. He turned his head and it took all of Yoochun’s will power not to turn too and meet his lips in a kiss. Jaejoong’s hand went to his waist, fingers clenching on the muscles. Breath shuddering, shoulder shaking.

Yoochun put both hands on the keys and played depressing and slow music until Jaejoong stopped crying.

“I-I better go,” Jaejoong said, and Yoochun nodded, saying _before I do something stupid and irreversible_ in his head.

“Do you talk to your parents, Jaejoong?”

Jaejoong froze, and then climbed out of Yoochun’s lap and off the bench. “Not really. They aren’t home a lot.”

“I’ve called them twice. They haven’t returned my calls.”

“Shows you how much they care, huh?”

Yoochun turned around. “Are you going home?”

“No.”

Yoochun pulled out his wallet and took a card. “Here.”

Jaejoong stared at him.

“Take it. I want you to call me if you ever need anything.”

Jaejoong looked away, heat rushing to his neck, but he reached forward. The card disappeared in his pocket.

“Your grades in your other classes are slipping.”

“They haven’t noticed.”

Yoochun smiled. “Don’t do less than what you’re capable of as a way to get attention, Jaejoong. It’s not the attention you want or need. Work hard, do well. I know you can.”

Jaejoong snorted. “I thought you weren’t going to lecture me.”

Yoochun laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. Do well. Please.”

Jaejoong nodded. “I … I will. Th-thanks, hyung.”


	4. Tattered Jeans

**This chapter contains drug use**

Jaejoong did wear jeans. Tight jeans that molded to his legs. Yoochun’s eyes were drawn to his crotch immediately where a line of buttons wound down the front and half way to his thigh. Yoochun wondered if they were real buttons. He managed to drag his eyes up. Jaejoong wore a hoody. It was black and gray and white striped, but the colors blended, making it look more like different shades of ink mixed with water. The zipper was down showing that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. A silver necklace lay perfectly against the V made from the sweater. He wore dark sunglasses.

His pale cheeks blossomed with red as Yoochun licked his lips. Jaejoong immediately sat at the piano. He removed the headphones from his head and started playing nonsense.

A few minutes later, Jaejoong started working on his song.

“Are you going to play that for your recital?” Yoochun asked.

Jaejoong stopped playing and shook his head.

“What do you want to play? You should be working on it. You only have two more weeks.”

Jaejoong swallowed. “You won’t let me just sit up there and play for ten minutes?”

“No. You need to let me know, so it can go on the programs.”

“I …”

“Why don’t you play Armstrong music? A compilation of his songs.”

Jaejoong immediately started playing “Dream a little Dream”.

“He has tons of songs. Pick six or seven and play them. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want, but it’ll be a good start for you. Something easy, for your first public performance.”

“Second.”

“Huh?”

“Second performance.”

“Your mom said you’ve never played in public before.”

Jaejoong smiled. The song ended and he tinkered on the keys for a little while. Little high notes with no rhythm.

“I played in a bar a few months ago,” Jaejoong said. “Y-yun … this guy got me drunk and I demanded to play and I played for hours, but …”

“... and?”

“I woke up the next morning in his bed, threw up and then …”

He didn’t finish, but Yoochun didn’t need him to.

“Did he rape you?”

“No.” The note Jaejoong slammed at the same time echoed around them even as he softened the notes. He popped a headphone into his ear, messed around with his iPhone and then started playing Armstrong again.

After three songs, Yoochun stood up and went to the piano bench. He sat and stared at Jaejoong. He hadn’t taken his sunglasses off. A single tear dripped from under the rim.

With each new song, Yoochun wrote down the title. Jaejoong played them all flawlessly.

“You can either play them like this,” Yoochun said, “or you can create segues and end up playing a medley of songs.”

“I’d rather just play them as a medley.”

“It has to have struc-”

“Everything in life has fucking structure, can’t I just play to play?”

“Yes. I’m not saying you can’t. But for the recital--”

“Fuck the recital.”

Jaejoong stood up and crossed the room. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “I’m sorry, Jaejoong,” he said in a mocking voice. “We can’t miss this meeting. It’s important for your father. It’s important for you sister. It’s important for your hyung. Blah blah blah blah. They can all go fuck themselves.”

Yoochun slowly followed Jaejoong. Jaejoong didn’t say anything else as Yoochun came up behind him, just stared out the window. Yoochun settled his hands on Jaejoong’s shoulders, and then slid them down, over his chest. Jaejoong sighed and leaned against his body.

“Don’t do this for them, Jaejoong. Do it for you,” Yoochun whispered.

“I don’t want to do it.”

“To stay in my class, you have to.”

“Then fuck you too.”

Jaejoong struggled in his arms and Yoochun let him go. He went to his bag, pulled out some papers. He set them on the piano, and then zipped his bag back up. His breath hitched, and then he swung his backpack onto his shoulder and left the room.

Yoochun should have called him back, but he was too stunned to move. He went after him, slamming the door open, and ran down the hall. But by the time he was outside, Jaejoong was gone. Yoochun sighed and went back to the room. Two of the papers had fallen to the floor. Yoochun bent over and picked them up.

Jaejoong’s song.

Yoochun sat at the piano. He put the pages in order and played Jaejoong’s song. The melody was simple, and then a rapid change in tempo had Yoochun’s fingers fumbling on low notes and bitter tones. And then the melody strain echoed through the darker feel. It hurt Yoochun’s heart to play it without Jaejoong next to him.

On the last page was a single stanza of lyrics:

_Even when the sun shines  
the darkness seeps inside  
Even when the lips smile  
the emotions snap cold_

Yoochun put his face in his hands and sighed. He’d wished he’d gotten Jaejoong’s phone number.

\---

Yoochun worried about Jaejoong all night. He had a hard time sleeping, and a harder time sitting down at his piano and playing anything but Jaejoong’s song. Friday turned into Saturday and Yoochun watched the sunrise, bathing his white baby grand in orange light. He lifted a glass of whiskey, wondered how long it had been sitting on the piano bench. A hearty breakfast.

His fingers moved over melancholy notes, and as he repeated the refrain again and again, he finally gave up his vigil. He always kept a notebook on his piano, and he reached for it, writing the notes, writing the sorrows of his heart on the lines. Things blurred. He’d look at it again when he was sober and either trash it, or keep it.

He wondered if he’d be sober this weekend.

Notes flowed from his fingers. Liquor flowed from the bottle. He wasn’t sure why he was so … invested … addicted … to this boy. Maybe it was because he saw himself in those wide, innocent-looking eyes, but their situations were hardly similar. He had no parents to impress, and Jaejoong only wanted attention.

Or at least, that’s what Yoochun thought. That did not explain the bruises. Or the drugs.

When Yoochun was young, the drugs dulled the pain. They dulled the hunger, and the ache in his body when a man was too rough. They dulled his senses and his ability to think about his life. It had been a necessity then.

There had to be something deeper in Jaejoong’s life.

Yoochun snapped alert at a shrill blaring beeping. He blinked his eyes against the dim light. He’d fallen asleep on a chair. A glass lay on the carpet, a drying spot of whiskey around it. He squeezed his eyes shut and then forced himself to stand. He staggered into the coffee table. cursing as it contacted with shins.

The beeping started again, and he recognized his cell phone. Where the hell … he followed the sound and found it in the kitchen, on the counter. Plugged in. He couldn’t remember plugging it in.

The number was unknown. He answered it with a rough hello.

“Hyung?”

And Yoochun was sober in an instant. “Jaejoong?”

“Hyung. Will come me? Need you.”

“Of course. Where are you?”

“Um … where are we?”

Yoochun heard a voice in the background say the name of a local motel.

“I’ll be there in a half hour.”

“Hah! I knew you’d come. They didn beliebe me at ill.”

“Jaejoong. Don’t hang up okay? Keep talking to me.”

“Naw, hyung. You’re coming, right?”

“Jaejoong, what room are you in?”

“Dunno. There were stairs. I gotta go, hyung. We … there’s more!”

“Jaejoong, don’t hang up. Jaejoong.” But Yoochun was shouting into a dead phone. “Fuck.” He knew he was too drunk to drive. He slipped on his shoes and grabbed his coat, phone, keys. He ran down the stairs of his apartment and flagged down a cab. After telling the cabby where to go, Yoochun tried to call the number again, but no one answered.

It took about twenty minutes. The cab driver stopped and Yoochun asked him to wait. “I won’t be gone long. Five, ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

Yoochun entered the lobby. A older, dangerous, ugly man glared at him. “You a cop?”

“No. I’m looking for a kid. A little shorter than me, burgundy hair. Really pretty.”

“I ain’t seen him.”

“He called and said he was here but then the phone cut off before I could get his room number.”

“I ain’t seen him.”

“He’s fifteen, man. Fifteen. Tell me what room they’re in, or I will call the police. I have no problems at all calling the cops and knocking on every door in this motel until I find him.”

The man’s face puffed out. “Eighteen B.”

“Thank you.” Yoochun turned around headed outside. He found the room numbers. Eighteen B was up a flight of concrete stairs. He took them two at a time and then knocked on the door. It didn’t open. He knocked again. With a muffled curse, he tried the knob. And luckily, it opened under his hand. He let it swing open. The stale scent alcohol and spunk permeating from the dingy room made Yoochun gag.

There were two naked bodies fucking in the bed.

A slim body was slumped in a chair.

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun gasped and went over to him. He touched Jaejoong’s face, but Jaejoong didn’t respond. His head lolled to the side. But he was breathing. There were dark bruises under both eyes. His skin was so pale.

“You must be Yoochun.”

Yoochun’s head snapped around. An older man, probably thirty, sat in another chair. His body was perfect with muscles up and down his chest and arms, and a perfect small face. His pupils were blown, and he sniffed more than once. A girl kneeled between his legs, mouth working on his cock.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Sexy little toy you have there.”

“He’s not a toy.”

“Sure he’s not. You a cop?”

“No.”

“You want a line?”” He motioned his head to the table. There was a mirror and a few lines of cocaine on it.

“No, thank you. Is he on anything else?”

“Dunno. E, maybe. GHB, for sure. Maybe some alcohol. Don’t care. He said you’d fuck him when you got here. I’ve been waiting so I can watch.”

Yoochun snorted and turned back to Jaejoong’s body. “I am definitely not going to fuck him.” He scooped Jaejoong up, carefully with an arm under his knees and his back.

“Hey, where are you going?” the man demanded.

“Home.”

Jaejoong moaned in his arms, and Yoochun left the room. He carried Jaejoong carefully down the stairs, and then to the cab. He snapped at the driver to go to the hospital and then said never mind, and had them go back to his place. If he took Jaejoong to the hospital, he’d be asked questions and they’d call his parents. He knew that Jaejoong did not want his parents involved. Against his better judgement.

Jaejoong’s chest rose in slow, shallow breaths. It whizzed through his open mouth.

Yoochun paid the cab driver double what the meter said. “Thank you very much.”

The driver nodded. Yoochun picked Jaejoong up carefully, again carrying him, but this time, Jaejoong jerked alert, or at least he managed to wrap his arms around Yoochun’s neck.

“Yunho.”

Yoochun wanted to know who Yunho was, but he had a feeling they’d just met. He took Jaejoong right to his bathroom. He set him down carefully on the cool tile. His body temperature was so high. He started the tub, filling it with lukewarm water. Jaejoong still wore the same clothes Yoochun had seen him in on Thursday.

They were real buttons. When he’d imagined himself undoing all those buttons on his jeans, it hadn’t been like this. His fingers shook with each button, and shook more when Yoochun realized that Jaejoong had nothing on underneath it. He had to shut his eyes as he pulled the pants off. He had to shift Jaejoong’s limp body to get the hoody off his shoulders.

“Yunho,” Jaejoong muttered again.

“No, dongsaeng.”

“Yoo... hyung?” Jaejoong sounded surprised, and then his pale lips turned in a smile. “Knew you’d come. Fuck me.”

“No.”

Jaejoong pouted. “I’m naked. You fuck me.”

“No. I’m going to clean you up. Hang on.” Yoochun lifted him and settled him in the tub. Jaejoong moaned. Water waved out of the tub, soaking Yoochun’s pants. He didn’t care.

“You’re at my apartment,” Yoochun said. He dipped a wash cloth in the water and then poured soap on it.

Jaejoong pouted. “Yunho be mad.”

“I don’t care about Yunho. I care about you.” Yoochun held his wrist carefully. There were bruises all up and down his arm, and on his chest. Yoochun washed his skin, arms dipping under the water.

Jaejoong sat quietly, and then a tear dripped out of his eye. And then another. He didn’t make any noise, just cried. Yoochun silently handed the wash rag to Jaejoong, and after a look, Jaejoong took it. Yoochun turned away as the rag disappeared under the water. His own breath was short. It was hard not to look at that body like he always did.

“Done,” Jaejoong said after lots of splashing.

Yoochun opened a cabinet and pulled out a towel. He set it on the toilet. “Can you stand?”

Jaejoong lifted his eyes, squinting up at him. “You look funny from here.”

Yoochun smiled and held out a hand. Jaejoong clutched at his hand and stumbled. Yoochun barely caught his wet-slick body. And then Jaejoong gasped and his body shook. Yoochun quickly grabbed the towel and wrapped it around Jaejoong. He lifted the boy again and carried him out of the room. Jaejoong cried into his shoulder.

“Do you hate me?” Jaejoong whispered.

“Of course not.”

“Then why won’t you fuck me?”

“You’re not sober, and you’re only fifteen.”

Jaejoong snorted. “So what? Yunho’s like thirty-five.”

“Remember what I said about not caring about Yunho.”

“Yunho takes care of me.”

“Sure, he does.”

“He does!”

Yoochun settled Jaejoong into bed. He used the towel to dry Jaejoong off some more. Jaejoong bit his lower lip and then suddenly rolled over. He whined and then pushed his ass in the air, knees underneath him.

Yoochun swallowed.

“Fuck me.”

Yoochun had a desperate desire to smack Jaejoong’s ass, but by the bruises purpling the pale skin, he’d already been abused enough.

“No.”

Jaejoong turned his head, he lowered his upper body to the bed. He reached behind him and spread himself open.

Yoochun cursed. His entrance was red, torn, purple with bruises. Yoochun shook his head.

Jaejoong’s eyes darkened, pupils still wide.

“No.” Yoochun turned away.

“You want to.”

“No, I don’t. I’m trying to take care of you.”

“Sex is good. I can feel from sex.”

Yoochun sighed and forced himself to stand up. “You need to sleep it off, Jaejoong.” He went to his dresser and found a pair of boxers and sweatpants.

There was movement behind him and cloth rustled. Yoochun turned and found Jaejoong sitting up, head lowered. He could see that lower lip between his teeth.

“I thought you wanted me, hyung,” Jaejoong said.

Yoochun put the clothes on the bed. He reached over and lifted Jaejoong’s face up. “I want you, Jaejoong. But I want you to be happy and protected. I want you to sleep.”

Yoochun leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Put some clothes on and lay down. I’ll be in the living room, okay?”

Reluctantly, Yoochun turned away. He crossed the room.

Just before he walked out the door, a quiet voice whispered, “Th-thanks, hyung.”


	5. Broken Chords

Yoochun didn’t sleep. He paced a tread into his carpet as twilight was replaced by midnight, and then early morning night.

A scream from his room had him hurrying there. He found Jaejoong curled in a ball, bare back to the door. His body shook with sobs.

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun said, climbing on the bed.

“Don’t touch me,” he shouted. “Don’t. Leave me--”

“Jaejoong, it’s me. It’s …”

Jaejoong shut up and peered over his shoulder. “Yooch … hy-hyung?”

Yoochun kneeled a couple feet from him. “Yeah. You okay?”

Jaejoong eyes squeezed shut, and Yoochun knew he was probably trying to remember what the fuck happened the night before.

“You called me, and I picked you up.”

“Oh, god, Yunho is going to kill me.”

“Serious kill you, or just be really upset with you? Because I’m pretty sure I met Yunho and he’s--”

“He’ll just be mad, hyung.”

“You don’t remember anything about last night?”

Jaejoong shook his head. “Except. Water?”

“Yeah, you took a bath.” Yoochun did not mention that he helped.

“Oh god, I might … “

Yoochun saw his face pale and he reached down, grabbed the trash can by his bed and Jaejoong raised to his knees and threw up in it. He emptied his stomach three times.

Skin pale and clammy, he curled in on himself with a whimper. Yoochun went to move off the bed, but Jaejoong grabbed his knee.

“Don’t … don’t go, please.”

Yoochun touched his forehead. “I’ll be right back. I promise. Try to go back to sleep.”

“I … I don’t want to sleep.”

Yoochun knew what that felt like.

He left the room and dumped the soiled trash can into the garbage shoot at the end of the hall. He stopped in the kitchen for a single aspirin and a glass of water.

Jaejoong was crying. Half-whimpers, like he was trying to conceal them. When he heard Yoochun, he turned his head away, buried in the pillow.

“Jaejoong-ah, here. Drink this.”

Jaejoong curled in on himself, tightly.

“Come on. Drink, and then we’ll lay down and sleep, okay?”

“We?”

“I haven’t slept in three days, Jaejoong.”

He rolled over, sniffed and rubbed his eye. “Why not?”

Yoochun smiled. “I’ve been worried about you. Come on. Sit up.”

Jaejoong thought about it for another moment and then sat up. He took the glass of water, drank half of it. Yoochun held out the pill. At Jaejoong’s distrustful look, Yoochun said, “It’s just aspirin. I promise.”

Jaejoong took the pill and downed the rest of the water. He lay down, body shaking with another bout of tears. Yoochun set the cup on his nightstand and then curled up around Jaejoong, over the blanket. His arms wrapped around his middle and Jaejoong pushed against the warmth of his body and cried himself into an uneasy sleep.

Yoochun pressed a kiss to the back of Jaejoong’s neck.

♪-♪-♪-♪

He woke up alone. Sunlight tried to penetrate his curtains. A chill spread through him. He flipped the blanket around and then froze as soft notes echoed through his apartment. Braving the chill, he rolled over and out of bed. He squeezed his eyes a few times as the last traces of sleep tried to stumble him into the wall.

He stopped, just inside the room.

Jaejoong sat at his piano. He held a cup of coffee in one hand while his left hand played the lowest notes on the piano. He still wore Yoochun’s sweat pants, and he’d thrown on one of Yoochun’s jackets.

Yoochun watched him play for a few minutes. He left the room without disturbing him and went to take a shower. He hadn’t showered for at least a day. The tub was still full from the night before. Yoochun emptied it. He turned the water on hot and tried to burn away the image of Jaejoong bent over, sore ass in his face. He wanted to slide his cock into that abused body so badly.

He did the next best thing and jerked himself off to the image of Jaejoong naked and begging. It wasn’t hard. He’d been imaging Jaejoong for weeks.

Shower finished, he turned off the water and slipped into his black robe. It wasn’t quite as fluffy as it used to be; it’d be time to buy a new one soon.

Jaejoong still played, but now both hands were on the keys. The melancholy strains of the music from “Schindler’s List” echoed through the room. It amazed Yoochun that Jaejoong played this from ear, and had probably never seen the music for it.

“Are you hungry?” Yoochun asked.

Jaejoong didn’t answer, but a tensing of his shoulders let Yoochun know he’d heard.

Yoochun left him alone. He poured a cup of coffee and started a fresh pot. He made rice and eggs and meat, enough for two people even if Jaejoong didn’t want to eat. Yoochun took his breakfast to the piano. He sat on the bench, eyes on Jaejoong’s fingers. He hadn’t noticed before but the knuckles were bruised. One was split, the cut raw. Yoochun ran his finger down the back of Jaejoong’s hand.

Jaejoong shivered.

“You should put something on that cut, rest your fingers.”

“I’m f-fine.”

Yoochun ate his breakfast as Jaejoong’s music flowed into Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He took Jaejoong’s empty cup with him to the kitchen. He washed the dishes, and then went to his room to put on real clothes. He slipped jeans over his bare hips, and stretched a tank top over his upper body.

Yoochun moved back to the piano and this time, he took Jaejoong by the wrist. Jaejoong lifted a confused look at him, and Yoochun gave in. He bent down and pressed a kiss to Jaejoong’s mouth. His lips opened in a gasp, and Yoochun lightly licked the cut in his upper lip.

“Do you remember begging me last night?” Yoochun whispered.

Jaejoong shivered. “N-no.”

“You did, and god, it took everything I had not to fuck you, but I knew you were wasted. And I knew that you weren’t going to remember it, and that’s not how I want you. Not the first time, not ever.”

Yoochun pulled Jaejoong close, squeezing him tightly, face pressed against the top of his head. “God, damn, I was terrified when I found you. And under the eyes of a man twice your age, blown out of his mind from cocaine, and fuck, Jaejoong.”

Jaejoong’s fingers clenched in his tank top.

“I … god, it was like a flashback for me, to stinky hotel rooms, drugs, pain. Numbness.” Yoochun leaned away and wiped Jaejoong’s bruised cheek. “Don’t do this to yourself, Jaejoong. Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“I … “

“Go eat some breakfast. You need real food in your stomach.” Yoochun kissed him lightly one more time and then turned to the piano.

He played Jaejoong’s song, very aware of the scared, confused mess of emotions next to him.

“Go eat, Jaejoong.”

There was a choking noise next to him and then Jaejoong launched up, shoving the bench. Yoochun lost his place in the notes, and then tried to do what Jaejoong would do and just play. He couldn’t manage to get the song to sound nearly as good as it did under Jaejoong’s fingers.

A door slammed. Probably the bathroom. Yoochun drank more coffee and played the piano. He didn’t know the song as well as Jaejoong, but he played Schindler’s List too.

“H-hyung?”

“Yeah?” Yoochun turned his head. Jaejoong fidgeted in the doorway. Not looking up.

“C-can I w-wash my clothes?”

“Sure. There should be some clothes in the washer already, just add yours to them.”

“O-okay.”

Yoochun looked back at the keys as Jaejoong turned. He sighed. Noticing notes on a paper, he picked it up. A vague memory of writing this flit through his mind. He tried the notes again, and then again, and decided it wasn’t that bad.

“Can I p-play, hyung?”

“No. You need to rest your fingers. They look like they hurt.”

“I … please.” Jaejoong sat on the edge of the bench. His fingers trailed through the upper octave, adding a flair to the nonsense Yoochun was playing.

“You don’t like to listen to people who are trying to help you.”

Jaejoong snorted, slid closer, and Yoochun slid down. “Yunho helps me.”

“Giving you drugs and fucking you and putting bruises on your face isn’t helping you.”

“He doesn’t hit me.”

Yoochun snorted.

“He doesn’t. I mean, sometimes he’ll smack me around if we’re having sex, but he doesn’t hit me.”

“The bruises on your body are from more than just smacking you around.”

Jaejoong’s face reddened and his hands shook on the keys.

“Who’s hitting you, Jaejoong?”

Jaejoong didn’t answer. His breath sped up, and his eyes watered. He made little noises, trying to keep from crying again, but the stubborn tears dripped down his cheeks anyway. Yoochun leaned over, kissed his forehead and then stood up.

His gaze found a clock. It was one in the afternoon.

The notes on the piano changed, fast and hard, a series of suddenly sharp, angry keys.

Yoochun knew he had to get Jaejoong off that piano, at least for a little while. He went to his room, gathered up a couple pillows and his blanket. Jaejoong didn’t look at him as he tossed them onto the couch. He didn’t look up from the keys until Yoochun put his arms around Jaejoong’s stomach and lifted him away.

“Hy-hyung!”

“We’re going to do something else. You think too much when you play the piano, and you shouldn’t be thinking right now.”

“That’s what the cocaine is for.”

Jaejoong stiffened as Yoochun half carried him to the couch. He pulled Jaejoong down with him and then with much protesting from Jaejoong, moved around until Yoochun lay on his side, back against the couch, head cushioned from pillows. His arm draped around Jaejoong’s middle and held him there. With the other hand, he turned on the TV and went through the channels.

Jaejoong’s hands gripped his arm and he said, “Can we watch this?”

It was some cooking show, dubbed from the American original.

“Serious?”

“I … I like to cook. Sometimes.”

“Sure.” Yoochun put the remote down and readjusted around Jaejoong’s body. He didn’t want to watch TV. He put his face in Jaejoong’s hair, moving as he inhaled. It smelled of Yoochun’s shampoo and something tangy that probably had to do with the drugs flushing out of his system. Yoochun moved his nose to behind Jaejoong’s ear, lips brushing his skin.

Jaejoong squirmed. “Tic-Tickles.”

Yoochun kissed the skin, fingers tightening on his chest.

Jaejoong tried not to laugh. “Hyung!”

Yoochun smiled and with difficulty stopped teasing Jaejoong’s skin. He dosed, on and off, awake when Jaejoong moved, and then asleep when he settled on a different show. It felt so good to hold him, and to know where he was, not having to worry about who he was with or if he was doing drugs.

When he truly woke up, well-rested and ready to actually do something, Jaejoong was asleep against him. They’d moved and Yoochun was more laying on his back, Jaejoong’s arms around his waist, head on his chest. His mouth was open, little puffs of breath fluttering the edge of the blanket.

Yoochun smiled. He did not want to wake him, but his fingers could not help but trail over his side, up his back, into his hair. Jaejoong moaned and his body tightened, hips rolling on Yoochun. Yoochun held his breath as Jaejoong humped him in his sleep. Again he was thrown into the gutter by the size of the erection suddenly pressed against his side.

A few moments later, his own erection tenting his pants, sliding just barely against Jaejoong’s hip, Jaejoong woke up. A slow sort of wakening with a moan. His face pushed into Yoochun’s chest, and then he froze, looking up. His wide eyes blinked away sleep. Panic bubbled in that face and before it could really materialize, Yoochun dipped his head down and captured those pouty lips with his.

Jaejoong grunted in surprise, but he didn’t pull away from the kiss.

Yoochun did not deepen hit, as much as he wanted to. He pulled away and then with a sigh, said, “You need to go home.”

Jaejoong shook his head. “No.”

“Jaejoong--”

“No,” he said again and struggled to get up. Yoochun let him. He walked across the living room, erection on display, and disappeared down the hall. A moment later, the dryer started. Yoochun stayed on the couch until there were noises of dishes clinking together in the kitchen.

With a sigh, he stood up. He rubbed his face with his hands. He went to the kitchen and leaned against the wall. Jaejoong moved around, pulling out pans, washing and cutting vegetables, and then meat. Chicken. Washing his hands. His movements were awkward, unlike when he was on he piano. He liked to cook, but Yoochun realized he was still worried if he was good enough. He was not worried on the piano at all.

Yoochun’s phone rang. He moved to the counter and saw a number he didn’t recognize, yet it looked familiar.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is this Yoochun?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

“Yes.”

“Is Jaejoong still with you?”

Yoochun looked up at Jaejoong. “Who is this?”

“This is Yunho. Jae left his bag, and his cell phone obviously. I can come pick him up and get him out of your hair.”

“Yeah, no.”

Yunho chuckled. “Over protective much? Don’t worry, _sonsaengnim_ , he’ll be in class tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“He’s a big boy. Let him make his own decisions. I want to talk to him.”

Yoochun thought about hanging up, but Yunho was right. Jae needed his bag.

He held out the phone and said, “Jaejoong.”

Jaejoong looked at him quizzically, and then his mouth opened. “Is it my mom?” he whispered.

Yoochun shook his head. “It’s Yunho.”

Jaejoong smiled and reached for the phone. “Hey, hyung,” he said, while staring at Yoochun. “Yeah, sorry … I know. I know … Sorry … sorry. God, shut up, I’m sorry.”

Jaejoong turned away from Yoochun. “Like that’s my fault … I know … I’m sorry, hyung. … Yeah. Um, hang on. I don’t even know.” He covered the phone up and said, “Where am I anyway? He wants to come and get me.”

“Jaejoong, please--”

“Don’t, hyung. I’m not going home.”

“I’m not telling him where I live and I’ll take you home. I know where that is.”

Jaejoong’s eyes narrowed.

Yoochun inhaled deeply. He had to remember he was negotiating with a teenager. “I won’t take you home, but please, don’t go with him. You can stay here tonight.”

Jaejoong turned away and said into the phone, “I feel like I’m grounded, but … yeah, I know, hyung.”

Jaejoong handed the phone back. “Your turn.”

“I think I should let you know that I’m not beating him,” Yunho said as soon as Yoochun acknowledged him..

“That’s what he said.”

“I’m not. He won’t tell me who it is.”

“But what you do is so much better.”

Yunho chuckled. “He gets his high, he forgets about the world for a little while, and I get a cute piece of ass to fuck. He’s smart, Yoochun-shi. He’s emotional and he’s bruised, more on the inside than the outside.”

Yoochun shut his eyes, because he knew exactly what that felt like. He told Yunho his address, and then hung up.

Yunho showed up about twenty minutes later. Yoochun went outside with Jaejoong, just to make sure Yunho didn’t run off with him. But he stayed against the building. He didn’t trust himself not to punch Yunho if he were closer.

Yunho drove a beat-up American import. His jeans looked dirty and his white wife-beater was gray in places. His eyes were already dilated from drugs. There was cute man in the passenger seat of the car.

Yoochun had a sudden vision of himself in the man’s place. If he hadn’t cleaned up, gotten off the drugs, this very easily could have been him in ten years.

Jaejoong ran to him, and easily fell into his arms. Yunho met Yoochun’s eyes as he lifted Jaejoong and then pressed a kiss to his cheek. Yunho whispered something in Jaejoong’s ear. Jaejoong shook his head. Then their lips met once and Yunho put him down. The other guy handed a black bag out the window, and Jaejoong took it.

“Thanks, Donghae-hyung,” he said and leaned into the window to kiss him.

Yoochun’s eyes narrowed. How many people was this kid fucking?

Yunho hugged him one more time, and then pushed him away with a laugh. “Go, before your guard dog over there decides to bite me.”

“You’d like that, hyung,” Jaejoong said back.

“From you.”

Jaejoong laughed and headed down the walkway. The easy way Jaejoong called, “Thanks, hyung” over his shoulder, made Yoochun’s heart break.


	6. Same Jeans

It was surreal. Confusing. Discomforting.

Yoochun crossed his arms and leaned back, watching Jaejoong do his homework. Everything about the scene appeared normal. What teacher wouldn’t sit at a table with his student and help him with his homework?

But the energy jilted every time Yoochun moved closer to look at a problem Jaejoong had a question with. Not that Yoochun could really help him with math. He’d barely finished high school, and he’d only passed because of a sympathetic teacher.

Jaejoong said nothing else to him.

Questions billowed through Yoochun’s mind. Who is hitting you? Why don’t you want to go home? Why hasn’t your mother called me back? Where do you sleep? Are you always with Yunho? What else do you do for drugs beside sell your body to a man twice your age?

Yoochun had no right to ask them.

Jaejoong expected him too.

“May I use your computer?” Jaejoong asked, more formal than he had been all day.

“For what?”

“Drug deals, prostitution rings, keep on the fly with my gang.” His fingers twisted and he made a gang!thug pose.

“That’s not funny, Jaejoong.”

“I have an essay to write for my Chinese History class.”

Yoochun went into the living room and brought back his laptop bag. He gave it to Jaejoong, and then decided he couldn’t be in the same … energy … as him. The piano called to him. He sat on the bench, picked up the drunken-doodles from the day before and attempted to turn it into something better. A cigarette burned between his lips as he played. A forgotten glass of whiskey left a ring on the wood.

High pitched and out of tune screeched through his notes. He jumped and looked up. Jaejoong smirked, four fingers on a harsh chord in the upper octave.

“Ah, now I have your attention. It’s two am. I’m going to sleep.”

“Two...” Yoochun trailed off. He looked at his almost-passable song and sighed. He’d have to finish it later. In that octave, Jaejoong suddenly played the melody and threw in his own little flare.

“Show off,” Yoochun muttered. “I hate it when you do that.”

Jaejoong turned his back and walked away. “I know that if we leave this up to you, it’s going to end up being awkward, but I’m tired. My body hurts, I feel like I’m going to explode and I just want to lay down, so I’m going to go to your bed and lay down and if you come and sleep with me then fine.”

Yoochun stared after him. “Jaejoong.”

Jaejoong stopped, but didn’t look at him.

“Do you want me to come and sleep with you?”

His head lowered, and then he nodded. Just once. Yoochun stood up. He turned off the lights, made sure his door was locked and then went to his room. The lamp on his nightstand was on. He set his alarm for six. Jaejoong was a lump under his covers.

Yoochun undressed. He’d normally crawl under the covers naked, or in boxers, but that night, he wore a pair of sweatpants.

He flipped the switch and doused the room in darkness.

“It’s freezing in here, hyung,” Jaejoong said as Yoochun climbed into the bed.

“I like it cold.”

“Yes, well, don’t consider this a come on or anything, but--” Jaejoong’s body pressed against his, arms sliding up his chest.

Yoochun gasped, fingers clenching the sheets.

“You’re warm. That’s all.”

Yoochun shut his eyes, but even in that darkness he could imagine the way Jaejoong’s burgundy hair fell over his chest. How those pink lips would look against his skin.

“Unless you don’t want it to be all,” Jaejoong whispered, and almost imperceptibly, he rocked his body against Yoochun’s.

“Don’t,” Yoochun said, voice low, pleading.

Jaejoong’s lips pressed against his left nipple. “Why not? You want to.”

“I won’t,” Yoochun said firmly. “Either behave or I’m going to go sleep on the couch.”

Yoochun felt Jaejoong’s pout against his skin. “I don’t understand you at all.” He propped up, hand flat on Yoochun’s chest. “Why won’t you fuck me?”

“Besides the fact that I’m almost ten years older than you?”

Jaejoong’s breath of frustration hit Yoochun in the cheek. “So what?”

Yoochun pushed Jaejoong’s shoulders away and lowered him to the bed, rolling them over. “I won’t lie to you,” Yoochun said and gave in by letting his lips fall to Jaejoong’s neck. “You’re beautiful, alluring, and yes, I very much want to have sex with you, but I’m not going to. Mostly because I’m your teacher, but also because you don’t have to. I think that you think that you have to, and you don’t have to, Jaejoong.”

“Please, just kiss me. I … I like being kissed,” he whispered. “It’s … it’s nice.”

Yoochun ran his fingers over Jaejoong’s cheeks. He knew that giving in now would mean difficulties later. His ability to say no to Jaejoong faded every minute he stayed pressed against him.

“Please, hyung, just … please. Kiss me like you love me.” His voice broke at the end.

Yoochun’s fingers were suddenly wet with tears. He leaned down and kissed the corners of Jaejoong’s eyes. His hands went around Yoochun’s back, clenching the bare skin as his body shook. Lips brushed his cheek, begging with small movement, and Yoochun caved. He turned his head and let their mouths join. Jaejoong whimpered into the kiss, turning it into a desperate tangle of tongues. Yoochun slid his hand into Jaejoong’s hair, holding him while he tilted his head for a cleaner angle. Jaejoong’s moans tore his soul, burned his skin and zapped his nerves.

He pulled away from Jaejoong, unsure if he’d even kissed him, the physical feeling gone, but his lips pounded. He landed on his back and it felt like he fell from ten feet up onto concrete. He couldn’t breathe.

And then warmth molded onto his side, lips pressed against his shoulder. Heat trailed over his heart.

“Good night, hyung.”

Colors of gray faded into his vision as he stared at the ceiling, chest heaving from the simple kiss. He did not sleep, and listened to Jaejoong breathe.

♪-♪-♪

“You look like shit, hyung,” Jaejoong said at the kitchen table.

Yoochun sipped on his coffee. He didn’t know how to reply to that. Blame Jaejoong, blame himself, blame his waking nightmares. Jaejoong’s bruises on his face had disappeared under a layer of makeup. Besides a slight swelling above his lip, he looked as perfect as ever.

Jaejoong asked, “Is there time for breakfast?”

“We’ll grab something on the way. When’s your first class?”

“Eight.”

“We’ll have to get it to go. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jaejoong stood up and put his coffee cup in the sink. Yoochun put his face in his hands.

Jaejoong scoffed and said, “Glad to know I’m an unwanted burden.”

“What?” Yoochun said, looking at him, but Jaejoong was already out of the kitchen. Yoochun went after him, caught him in the wall and stopped him. But Jaejoong struggled and Yoochun pushed him up against the wall with his thigh.

Jaejoong’s eyes shut. His lower lip quivered.

“Sorry,” Yoochun said, loosening his hold but not letting him free. “You are not an unwanted burden. Don’t ever think that.”

“It’d help if people would stop treating me like that.” His voice shook, but he just stopped his tears.

Yoochun smiled and bent down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You are not an unwanted burden,” Yoochun repeated. “You can come here anytime you want. You can parade around half naked and drive me absolutely, seductively insane whenever you want. And more importantly, you can come over and play my piano whenever you want.”

Jaejoong fingers played with the top button on Yoochun’s suit coat. “I’m sorry, hyung. I …”

Yoochun caught his chin lightly with his fingers. He kissed him again, pressing his tongue against his lower lip. Jaejoong shivered, hands sliding in the coat and to Yoochun’s sides.

“And Jaejoong, you can talk to me whenever you want. Yes, I find you incredibly attractive, but I’m your teacher first. A huge part of me is so pissed off that someone is hurting you, and a smaller part is pissed that you won’t tell me who it is.”

Jaejoong bit his lower lip. “I … I c-can’t, h-hyung.”

“I know. You should.” Yoochun kissed him again. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

Yoochun turned away from him before he kept Jaejoong there and kissed all his worries away, and kissed every bruise on his body. He grabbed his laptop bag and his suitcase. Jaejoong hefted his backpack over his shoulder.

Outside, they shared a cigarette as they walked two blocks to the main road and then Yoochun flagged down a taxi.

“You should let me out early,” Jaejoong said.

“Why?”

Jaejoong rolled his eyes. “A little suspicious, isn’t it? Me getting out of a cab with you.”

“So what? We tell people I saw you walking and picked you up on the way.”

Jaejoong pouted, and then nodded. “Not as dumb as you look, sonsaengnim.”

The cab driver shot a look at Yoochun.

Yoochun shook his head. “It’s not what it sounds like,” he said.

“Hey, whatever,” the cabby said with a smirk.

A few minutes later, they stopped at the cafe closest to school. Yoochun bought more coffee and a few things for breakfast.

“Thanks, sonsaengnim,” Jaejoong said, and in a swirl of khaki-school-uniform, Jaejoong turned and left the shop.

Yoochun sighed. He sat at the coffee shop, not really wanting to go into school yet. His class wasn’t until the afternoon. His phone rang with a vaguely familiar number and he had a moment of fear, since this weekend had been a weekend of strange phone calls.

“This is Yoochun.”

“Oh, hello, Sonsaengnim Park. This is Giyeon, Jaejoong’s mother.”

“Hello,” Yoochun said, carefully.

“Is this a bad time for you?”

“No, I’m having coffee.”

“Jaejoong isn’t in any trouble, is he?” Her voice made it seem like she had no idea what went on in Jaejoong’s life. Yoochun was not surprised.

“No. I only called to let you know how well Jaejoong was doing in my class. The other parents had called, and I figured you would like to know.”

“Oh that’s a relief. He’s not causing any problems?”

“Not in my class. He loves to play. Is he having problems in other classes?” Yoochun already knew the answer to that question.

“He’s a great kid.” And that didn’t answer the question at all.

“He really is, Mrs. Kim Giyeon. He’s an incredible musician. I’m taking his innate ability to play and teaching him how to write his own songs.”

“I’ve missed the sound of him playing at home.”

“He doesn’t play at home.”

“Oh … um, … I’m sure he does. I just … I get busy, Professor Park and sometimes, I don’t get to hear him play.”

“Well, you’re in luck. His first recital is in two weeks. And we’ve been focusing on jazz and blue grass. He’s working really hard.”

“I know. I’m sorry I’m going to miss it.”

“What?”

“His father and I will be in Milan that weekend. It’s an important business function that we can’t miss.”

“Oh. I see.” Yoochun’s heart hurt for Jaejoong.

“One of his sisters will be able to go though. I talked with Gilin, and she says that she will go if she’s able. Those two are so close, since they share a house.”

“Share a house?”

“Oh, yes. Didn’t Jaejoong say? He lives at his sister’s home on the estate. His request. I’m not sure why, but with his father and I gone most of the time, it’s good for him to be around someone. He gets so lost sometimes.” She sounded like she regretted that, but she also had no plans on changing that.

“Oh. Just remember, parental support is very important for someone Jaejoong’s age.”

“We are fine parents, Mr. Park.”

Yoochun stiffened at the lack of his formal title. “Yes, I did not mean to imply anything. Well, I have to go,” he lied. “The next recital is the third weekend in October. Hopefully you can come to that one.”

“We will try. Thank you, Mr. Park for your concern over our son.” And then she hung up.

Yoochun sighed and put the phone in his pocket. No wonder Jaejoong felt so unwanted. But it still didn’t explain who was beating on him. If his parents were never around, then that probably meant it wasn’t them. Possibly the sister, or her husband if she was married. Jaejoong never wanted to go home. It couldn’t be merely a coincidence.

♪-♪-♪

Class felt like it lasted forever. Yoochun gave up teaching and let the girls play. They had a mini-piano war where one would start a song, and the other had to finish it, with no music. Jaejoong was not allowed to play since he would win. Jaejoong stayed at his desk, scribbling on a piece of paper.

Yoochun walked over to him at one point, saw that he was writing out music notes, and then moved away without disturbing him.

When class was finally over, Jaejoong lagged behind, but he didn’t say anything. As soon as the door shut behind the last girl, he dug into his bag and pulled out his jeans. With a glance at Yoochun, he took off his school shirt, and then slipped out of his pants. Yoochun was hard in a moment, because Jaejoong was not wearing underwear. His naked skin disappeared behind the jeans and Jaejoong’s hands shook as he buttoned all the buttons. The white button down shirt fell from his shoulders, revealing one of Yoochun’s tank tops, but it stayed on and Jaejoong pulled on his hoody. The last thing he added were his headphones.

Their eyes met again, and then Jaejoong turned and left the room. Yoochun felt as if he had done something wrong. Had Jaejoong wanted him to touch him, or to kiss him, or to do something? If Yoochun hadn’t been so frozen, he probably would have. But Jaejoong’s inherent sexuality made him stupid.

Yoochun sent him a text. _I will not try to be overbearing with worry for you, but it’s there. If you need anything, call me. If you need someplace to stay, come over. Please. Anytime, any day._

Jaejoong sent him back a weird emoticon that Yoochun did not understand.

Yoochun sighed and added, _Cocaine and sex aren’t the answers, just remember that._

_Yeah, whatever. Thanks, hyung. Doesn’t mean much when you want to bend me over and fuck me. When you have a better solution, let me know._


	7. Sharp Chords

Jaejoong said nothing to him on Wednesday. Yoochun could not tell if there were new bruises on his face, but his hands shook, like he hadn’t slept, or like he was coming down from a high.

For the first time since class started, Jaejoong hit sour notes on the piano when he played at the end of class.

“You alright?” Yoochun asked as soon as the girls were gone (Jaelin shot him worried glances as she left).

Jaejoong lowered his head and nodded. “F-fine.”

“Are you coming to your lesson tomorrow?”

“Y-yes.”

“Okay.”

When Jaejoong stood up, Yoochun bit back a noise of surprise. It was the first time he’d ever seen Jaejoong not get an erection from playing the piano. Jaejoong’s breath wheezed in and out of his mouth, and he hurried to his desk for his bag. Yoochun sighed.

“Jaejoong,” he said as the boy hurried to the door. He stopped, shoulders tensing.

Yoochun stood up and moved to him. He hugged him from behind, the first contact they had since Monday. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do. No one else cares.” Jaejoong twisted and Yoochun let him go. The door shut behind him.

Yoochun was out of ideas. He went home and had to keep from drinking himself into a stupor. He worked on his drunken song, and scribbled _In the Whiskey Glass_ at the top of it.

He woke up with a headache and a backache and with the indentations of piano keys on his cheek. After a quick shower, he headed to the school. An accident blocked up traffic and he was ten minutes late to his lesson with Yuri. Yoochun had mentioned to Yuri about playing a compilation of jazz music at the recital and she jumped at the chance, choosing Billie Holiday’s love-aching songs. She was still working through a few chords on “I Can’t Believe You’re In Love with Me,” when Jaejoong showed up.

Yoochun stared at him. Jaejoong wore loose, pale blue jeans, well worn and comfortable. A chain hung in a pocket, attached to a black belt. His t-shirt was tight, deep red with some black swirls over his chest. He wore Yoochun’s hoody, and Yoochun hadn’t realized he’d taken it.

“Hi, Jaejoong,” Yuri said brightly.

He smiled and said hello, and then just at the right time, he started singing the lyrics to the song. Eyes on Yoochun’s.

_Your eyes so blue  
Your kisses too  
I never knew what they could do  
I can't believe you're in love with me_

_You're telling everyone I know  
I'm on your mind each place you go  
They can't believe that you're in love with me  
I have always placed you far above me  
I just can't image that you love me  
And after all is said and done  
It looks like I'm the lucky one  
I can't believe you're in love with me_

At the end of the song Yuri applauded Jaejoong, and he smiled and applauded her, saying “Brava” in a fake French accent that had Yuri giggling.

“Good job, Yuri,” Yoochun said. “You’re almost set.”

“I’ll practice really hard,” she promised. She gathered her things and bowed and said goodbye.

The door shut behind her, and Yoochun moved to Jaejoong immediately. Jaejoong was wearing sunglasses inside again. Yoochun touched his cheek and then took off the glasses before Jaejoong could stop him.

“Hyung!” he shouted and turned his head, but not before Yoochun saw the unconcealable bruise around his swollen -hut eye.

“Who is doing this to you?” Yoochun whispered, letting his fingers brush Jaejoong’s cheek.

His lower lip wavered and then he held his hand out. Yoochun gave him the glasses back and they went right on his face again. He brushed past Yoochun and started playing Billie Holiday’s “You Don’t Know What Love Is”.

Yoochun sat on a chair near the piano, keeping his distance. He waited until Jaejoong finished that song before talking.

“So what are you going to do for your recital?”

Jaejoong flinched.

“You don’t want to talk about what’s going on in your life,” Yoochun said, “so we’ll talk about your musical choice. Programs are being printed on Monday. So I need to know.”

Jaejoong nodded, and then pulled out his notebook. He ripped a piece of paper from it and said, “This.”

Yoochun took it and it was what he suggested: six songs by Louis Armstrong. “Play it.”

Jaejoong played. Yoochun noticed there were new cuts on his knuckles, and the thought of Jaejoong fighting back left a mixed feeling in his heart. He was glad that the kid wasn’t just letting whoever do this to him, but that probably meant the bruises and cuts were worse.

“Your mom called me,” Yoochun said, and Jaejoong hit a wrong note. “She isn’t coming to your recital, like you said, but she said one of your sisters will. I didn’t know that you lived with your sister.”

“Yeah, well, my mom is never home.”

“Is Gilin married?”

“Yes.” His voice lowered with pain at that one word.

“Kids?”

He shook his head. “I thought we weren’t talking about my personal life.”

“I lied. Have you seen Yunho this week?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Absolute jealous rage is what it is to me.”

Jaejoong snorted as he moved into a different song, but Yoochun wasn’t paying that much attention to his playing.

“Yes. I have. So what?”

Yoochun put his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He let out a frustrated breath.

“Did you hear me ask you to save me, hyung?”

“No,” Yoochun said and stood up. He paced just behind the piano. “You’ll end up just like Yunho or dead if you don’t stop doing cocaine.”

“You turned out alright.”

“Because someone saved me,” Yoochun whispered.

“Who saved you?”

Yoochun sighed. “I told you. A family friend.”

“Lie,” Jaejoong sang.

Yoochun ignored it. “I didn’t listen to him for a long time. He offered … right when I left home, he offered to take me in, but I was stupid and young and thought I could survive on my own. The sooner you listen...”

Jaejoong slammed his keys on the piano. “Don’t fucking say it, _hyung_. I listen to adults that know what’s best for me all fucking day long, and what has it given me, huh?”

“Jaej--”

“Shut up, hyung. Just … just let me play.” He started right where he left off and continued playing.

Yoochun sighed. Jaejoong was right. The adults in his life hadn’t done much for him, at least, not from Jaejoong’s point of view. His father was never around, Yunho fucked him in exchange for drugs, and even Yoochun was guilty of using him. Yoochun stood behind Jaejoong and brushed fingers through his hair. Jaejoong huffed in irritation and yanked his head away.

Yoochun smiled at the top of his head and then bent down a pressed a kiss to his hair. He smelled like citrus today. He left Jaejoong alone and then went to his desk. He had to have the final timeline for performances turned in the next day.

Jaejoong didn’t stop playing until his lesson was up.

“Come home with me,” Yoochun said, almost begging.

Jaejoong sighed as he gathered his things.

“Please,” Yoochun whispered.

“I …” Jaejoong pouted. He took out his phone and leaned against the side of the piano while his fingers flew over the buttons. “Why?” he said as he frowned at his phone.

“I want you to.”

Jaejoong looked at him. “You want me to so you know where I am, or you want me to so you can tease me and not fuck me and be a little prudish, blushing virgin?”

Yoochun opened his mouth and then shut it.

“Will you fuck me?” Jaejoong said.

Yoochun didn’t need the sunglasses to be removed to know how cold those eyes were.

“If your answer is yes, then my answer is yes.”

“I can’t do that, Jaejoong.”

Jaejoong smirked. “Life is all about give and take, hyung. You want something, you have to give something. I’ve learned that. I would have thought that you had. See you on Monday.”

Jaejoong slipped headphones over his ears. The jeans sagged dangerously low on his hips. He was wearing black boxer briefs.

Yoochun held his breath until the door shut. He went to the piano, slammed a high key and then gathered up his things. He went home and paced around his apartment.

Frustrated didn’t begin to explain how he was feeling.

Yoochun opened his phone, stared at a number and then after a few minutes of debate, he hit the send button. He waited, breathless, through five rings before someone finally picked up.

“What do you want?”

Yoochun almost cried in relief. “Hello to you too, Changmin-shi.”

“You only call me when you need something. What do you need?”

“Advice.”

“On?”

“Stubborn teenager destroying himself in sex and drugs.”

Changmin remained quiet. “Ah, so you finally know what it’s like to see someone you care for slowly waste away before your eyes.”

“I’m learning, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me about him.”

Yoochun told Changmin everything. Everything because Changmin would understand.

Changmin sighed and said, “I think you’ve done all you can, Yoochun-ah. You only have to wait for him to come to you now.”

“But what if it’s too late?”

“Then it’s too late.”

Yoochun sat on his couch hard. After a moment and a deep sigh, he said, “Have I ever thanked you?”

He could imagine Changmin’s smile. “Yes, dongsaeng, you have. Have I ever apologized to you?”

Yoochun nodded, saying nothing into the phone.

“So other than this boy who you’re inexcusably infatuated with, what else is going on in your life?”

Yoochun told Changmin about his other students, and about their recital. “You should come,” he said. “It’d be good to see you again.” Long ago memories of long limbs wrapped around Yoochun’s waist filled his mind.

“You need to get laid,” Changmin said.

“Hyung!” Yoochun shouted.

“Not from Jaejoong. He’s just a boy. I meant in general.”

“Are you offering yourself?”

“Um, no. Been there, done that. You need a boyfriend, Chunnie, not someone who fucks your ass and leaves you.”

“You didn’t leave me after fucking my ass.”

“No. You left me.”

“Right.”

“Sunday, come over. No excuses. We’ll play together again.”

“Okay.”

“And with Jaejoong, just … don’t … I don’t know. With you, I … I let you know I’d always be there, and then I was always there. Don’t break your promises.”

“I won’t. Thanks, hyung.”

Yoochun hung up. He got up only long enough to get a glass of scotch and then decided that he’d take the bottle. He sat back down on the couch and took a few deep swallows. Getting drunk didn’t seem like it was a good idea. Reluctantly, he went to his piano and worked on “In the Whiskey”.

_In the whiskey, there is peace  
light reflecting in its folds  
whiskey colored reflections show  
pain and tears and cold_

_your eyes are golden amber  
full of erotic love  
your face is gutter broken  
full of accusing pain_

_let me help you in your game  
let me help you to explain  
what’s buried in the whiskey  
let me pour another shot  
let me try to find your heart  
where it’s buried in the whiskey_

Someone knocked on his door. Yoochun jerked alert, and then the pounding came again. He stood up, back aching from sitting at the piano so long. The night out his windows was dark, deep. He moved across the room as his visitor knocked again.

“Hang on,” he said, exasperated.

“Huurrrrryyyyy.”

Yoochun stopped for a moment in surprise and then flung the door open, revealing Jaejoong.

“Oh, god, finally, I have to fucking pee.” Jaejoong pushed past him, dropped his bag and stumbled through the apartment.

He smelled a mixture of strong alcohol and come and Yoochun made a face. He shut his door and remembered a similar moment when he’d barrelled into Changmin’s house unannounced and threw up all over his date’s shoes.

“Take a shower while you’re in there,” Yoochun shouted to him.

A few moments later, Jaejoong crawled out of the bathroom, moaning. Yoochun kneeled next to him.

“What are you on?”

Jaejoong’s eyes shut and tried to focus on Yoochun. His pupils were so wide. Nothing but black.

“Light too bright,” he said.

“What are you on?” Yoochun repeated.

Jaejoong moaned and poked his shoulder. “Stop shouting, what are you on, fuck, what am I on, what are you on and why are we on anywhere, and who the hell put us here? I’ll tell you who. Siwon. Siwon fucker put us there.”

“Who’s Siwon?” Yoochun asked.

Jaejoong used the wall to crawl to his feet. “Fucker. That’s who.”

He pushed away from the wall and tripped. Yoochun twisted and caught him just before he smashed into the floor.

“Siwon asshole Siwon fucker. I should write a song about that.”

“Jaejoong.”

“Hyung.” Jaejoong’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Who’s Siwon?”

“Don’t care,” Jaejoong said and frowned.

Yoochun sighed and held Jaejoong against his chest.

“I need to throw up,” Jaejoong said, “but I can’t throw up because I already threw up and I can’t eat because then I’ll throw up and I already threw up.”

Yoochun managed to stand up, Jaejoong clinging to him, but barely. His fingers were jerking all over, eyes wide open then shut, nose scrunching up.

“Cocaine tonight?” Yoochun asked, directing him to his room.

Jaejoong smiled and nodded. “Yep, yep. You got any?”

“No. Sorry.”

“You should have some. If you’re going to be my friend, then you should have some, because cocaine is fucking awesome.”

“How’s Yunho tonight?”

“Dunno. Didn’t see him.”

Jaejoong jerked out of his arms and fell onto the bed on his back.

“Who did you get cocaine from?”

“DoooooooooongHaeeeeeeeee. He’s so cute. Only Yunho’s fucks him so, he fucked me too, just like Yunho does, but his dick was tiny.” Jaejoong held up two fingers just barely together.

“God, please tell me you used a condom.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Was this guy Siwon there, too?”

Jaejoong smacked his lips, made a face and shook his head. “Nope. Siwon is an asshole. He doesn’t let me come.”

“Who is Siwon, Jaejoong?”

“God, fuck off!” he shouted, black eyes wild. “I don’t want to talk about Siwon.” He pulled his shirt over his head, tearing it, and then rolled onto his stomach. “Go away now. Leave me alone.”

Yoochun sighed. Even in the dark light he could see the bruises on Jaejoong’s back. “Okay. I’ll be right out in the living room if you need me.”

“Don’t need nobody,” he whispered.

Yoochun went back to his piano and his incomplete lyrics. He sighed, and played something else, anything else. He wished he could get lost in the music like Jaejoong could, but he tried to make songs, tried to make music. Maybe that was Jaejoong’s secret. He didn’t play to make music. He let the music make itself.

Yoochun forgot about key, forgot about rhythm and note choice. He let his fingers free, and then his mind caught on, and his mind followed the notes and the melodies and the refrains, but his fingers carried the music.

Cool skin pressed against his side, and Yoochun looked over quickly. Jaejoong didn’t meet his eyes. Yoochun lifted a hand from the piano and wrapped it around Jaejoong. He curled up in Yoochun’s lap, and Yoochun reached around him to keep playing. Wet seeped into his shirt as Jaejoong’s body shook.

A few minutes later, Jaejoong lifted his head, eyes on the keys and Yoochun’s slow moving fingers. He put one bruised and shaking hand to the piano and added chords to Yoochun’s melody. Yoochun smiled. Jaejoong was so talented. He leaned his head down, pressed their cheeks together.

“Feeling better?”

“Sober is better?” Jaejoong whispered.

“Yes. When you can control it.”

“It’s easier to not control it.”

“Right now, yes. Forever? It won’t be.”

“You’re a good musician, Yoochun.”

Yoochun smiled. “So are you.”

“C-can you come and lay down with me again?”

Yoochun chuckled. “Only if you go shower first.”

Jaejoong sniffed his arm and made a face. “Good idea.”

“Go on. I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”

“T-thanks, hyung.”


	8. Sexy Jeans

**This chapter is NC-17.**

Red numbers said it was almost three in the morning, but Yoochun felt wide awake. He paced his room, listening to the shower run. There were so many questions to ask Jaejoong. He wanted to know who Siwon was, and he wanted to know if Siwon was the asshole putting bruises on Jaejoong’s body. But he couldn’t. He wanted to know, but Changmin’s words came back to him. Just be there for him. That’s all Yoochun could do, and Jaejoong did not deserve a lecture or an interrogation. Having sex with him wasn’t the smartest or best thing to do for him either, but with both of them in bed, sober and not exactly tired, it was going to be hard to resist.

Yoochun did not want to resist anymore. Stripped to boxers, he climbed under the covers. It was dangerous, and crazy, and insane. His cock filled with anticipation. Yoochun shut his eyes, a mantra of _just sleep_ pulsing through his body.

But he didn’t know if that was even possible.

He had to try. He’d spent who knows how many days telling Jaejoong he wasn’t going to have sex with him and here he was, lying in bed mostly naked waiting to see if Jaejoong would fuck him.

And when Jaejoong came into the bedroom, rubbing a towel on his head, with only those faded blue jeans riding low on his hips, the possibility of not touching him disappeared. The jeans were unbuttoned, forming a triangle of pale skin pointing at his crotch.

Yoochun watched, eyes soaking in the details of Jaejoong’s body as he dried a few droplets from his body. His muscles were stringy, young and undeveloped, a hidden strength The shadows made the bruises deeper.

“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me,” Jaejoong said.

“You’re sexy, can’t help it.”

“Oh really?” Jaejoong tossed the towel on the floor. He crawled up the end of the bed, over Yoochun, and Yoochun’s eyes dropped down his body. The jeans were slipping down his hips. This kid had no right to be this sensual so young.

 _You were_ , a voice reminded him.

His fingers trailed up Jaejoong’s arm as soon as he could touch it, hand over his shoulder, behind his neck and then their lips were together. Yoochun fingers twisted in Jaejoong’s wet hair as Jaejoong lowered his body. Yoochun sighed into his mouth. Jaejoong gasped as Yoochun’s erection pressed into his stomach.

Yoochun licked his open mouth. “How talented is your mouth?”

“Better than my fingers,” Jaejoong said with a nip to Yoochun’s pouty lower lip.

Yoochun smiled and kissed him, rolling his hips up. “Show me. It’s been a while, so it should be an easy task.”

Jaejoong laughed and somehow between the two of them, they removed the blanket. Jaejoong kneeled, ass on Yoochun’s knees. His jeans had fallen low enough that his erection was visible, yet still confined in the jeans. His cock twitched and Jaejoong saw it and smirked. With two fingers, he gripped Yoochun’s covered erection and squeezed.

Yoochun moaned, eyes shutting. “This--might be easier … fuck.”

Jaejoong laughed again, and it sounded so perfect in Yoochun’s ears. No bitterness, no sadness, just utter delight. Jaejoong tugged on the top of his boxers and he lifted his hips to pull them off.

“Before I do this,” Jaejoong said as he tossed the boxers over his shoulder, “is this going to change things between us?”

“Probably. More kissing, less piano playing, I bet.”

Jaejoong smiled. “I … “

Yoochun sat up and cupped Jaejoong’s cheeks before kissing him. “No, Jaejoong. It won’t. I will always be there for you, no matter what.”

Jaejoong smiled. With hands on Yoochun’s chest, Jaejoong pushed him back to the bed. He slithered down the bed, knees bent, feet in the air and he smiled as he stared at Yoochun’s dick. He licked his lips. Yoochun shivered under his intense gaze.

“Mine’s bigger,” Jaejoong sang.

“You call me pencil dick and I’ll make you sleep on the couch.”

Jaejoong laughed again. He ran his hands up Yoochun’s thighs and he unconsciously spread them. Jaejoong’s tongue touched his balls first, licking up, and around, mouth closing around one.

Yoochun sighed, and then said, “You probably shouldn’t tease.”

“God, hyung, how long has it been?”

Yoochun smiled and ran his fingers through Jaejoong’s hair. “Too long. Suck me.” With a little tug, Jaejoong moved up. With a thumb and forefinger around the base, he lifted Yoochun’s cock. Yoochun’s fingers stayed in his hair. His eyes shut at the first touch of tongue to the head. But then he opened them again, because he did not want to miss those pink lips around his cock.

And he used his lips, sliding over the slick skin, pushing into the top. They opened slowly, jerking over the ridge as Jaejoong added pressure. His hand slipped up Yoochun’s shaft just as his tongue rolled over the head and Yoochun was ready to come in seconds. He automatically lifted his hips, trying to slide more into that warm mouth. Jaejoong moaned and as his hand went back down the shaft, his mouth followed, no space between, and as soon as his cock hit the pressure in the back of Jaejoong’s mouth, Yoochun was coming.

“Fuck, Jaejoong,” Yoochun gasped as his cock swelled. Jaejoong’s mouth moved up, dragging his orgasm with it, and Yoochun shouted as he shot his release onto Jaejoong’s lips while he lapped at the head, moaning. He dropped Yoochun’s cock and licked up the few escaped droplets of come from Yoochun’s stomach.

“You’re right,” Jaejoong said, kissing up his chest. “Easy task.”

Yoochun smiled around gasping breaths. He let his finger release Jaejoong’s hair and slid down his back and to his hip, reaching into the loose jeans to cup his ass. He pushed the jeans with both hands until they were down his hips, and then reached between them and took Jaejoong’s cock in his hand, stroking lightly.

“A not so easy task,” Yoochun said with a squeeze to Jaejoong’s cock. “Getting this inside me.”

Jaejoong’s smile fell. “Huh?”

Yoochun laughed and said, “Haven’t you ever topped?”

Jaejoong bit his lip and shook his head.

Yoochun smiled and kissed him, sucking that lower lip into his mouth. “Well, Jaejoong, I like it both ways, but with this cock, yeah, I am totally bottoming.”

“I … hyung, but … what?”

Yoochun pressed a kiss to Jaejoong’s confused pout and then crawled out from under him. He sat up, knee shaking because he really should have waited until his body recovered from that quick orgasm. He opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out lube and a condom.

“I … hyung, I don’t know if I can …”

Yoochun climbed back on the bed and crawled over him, positions reversed. He pressed a kiss to Jaejoong’s stomach and the muscles twitched. He dragged his tongue up to a nipple. Jaejoong cut off a gasp of surprise as Yoochun sucked the nipple lightly into his mouth. He had a feeling that no one had bothered to worship Jaejoong’s body before. Only abuse it.

He moved his mouth to a bruise on his upper chest. He kissed it once, and then moved to another on his shoulder. Each bruise received the same treatment twice and then Yoochun sucked on his other nipple and stroked the flat of his hand up Jaejoong’s cock.

Jaejoong moaned, hips jerking up.

“Are you in danger of coming in three seconds?” Yoochun asked.

Jaejoong tried to laugh and shook his head.

“Okay, then.” Yoochun grabbed the bottle of lube and covered his fingers with it. Drops landed on Jaejoong’s stomach and his body twitched again. He put the bottle down and tossed a condom onto Jaejoong’s chest. “Be useful and open that.”

Yoochun reached underneath himself, pausing to grab his cock with his slick hand, and then went further. He slipped a finger over his entrance and then sighed as he pushed it in deep. Foil crinkled as Jaejoong unwrapped the condom. Yoochun’s head lowered as he added a second finger immediately. He licked at Jaejoong’s chest, whining at the stretch. God, he hadn’t been fucked in so long.

Jaejoong’s fingers wrapped around his cock.

Yoochun’s eyes flew open with a gasp. “Oh god, that’s enough.”

Jaejoong laughed, yanking on him and Yoochun crawled forward until he was straddling Jaejoong’s waist. He kissed him, demanding, begging. His non-lubed hand twisted into Jaejoong’s hair, and the kiss increased as Jaejoong stroked him.

“Enough,” Yoochun said. “Please. Enough.”

He reached his lubed hand back, gripping Jaejoong’s cock. He rubbed twice and then scooted down. He held the head steady, teasing himself with it as he slipped it over his entrance. He wasn’t prepared enough at all to take this cock, but he wanted to feel the stretch.

Jaejoong moaned. “Fuck, hyung, I thought you said it was enough.” He lifted his hips and Yoochun grunted as he almost fell forward.

He tightened his hold, held Jaejoong’s dick firmly and then pressed down. His head flung back as the wide head stretched him open, and he didn’t stop, pushing down, taking more. His body protested. Unbearable, pleasurable pain shot up his back, making him gasp. He lifted up, and then down again, shallow, little by little. With eyes shut tight, he sat, all the way, pulling a startled cry from Jaejoong. The smooth skin of his thighs contrasted harshly with the rough fabric of the jeans. The buttons were cold on his ass.

Yoochun’s head fell forward, mouth open as his body tried to deal with the sensation of being so full.

Fingers wrapped around his cock, and Yoochun moaned, lifting himself, dropping. Stopping, as he gasped. And then again.

Jaejoong keened. “Hy-hyung.”

“Feel good?” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong nodded, quick and more than needed. His eyes shut, neck strained as he tilted his head back. “Move, fucker.”

Yoochun chuckled. “Hang on. You’re not exactly small.”

Jaejoong gasped, eyes flying open. Yoochun rotated his hips, and then again, so Jaejoong’s cock stayed inside him, but still moved. Little flashes of pleasure shot though his skin. Jaejoong whined, and Yoochun moved. He put his hands on Jaejoong’s chest and lifted up, all the way until Jaejoong almost slipped from him and then dropped down. They both cried out as Yoochun did it again. Jaejoong’s hips jerked up and stars danced through Yoochun vision at the force. He did it again, and again, and again, until his arms shook and Jaejoong was muttering nonsense between his moans.

“Hyung, hyung, fuck. Can’t … jeans.”

Yoochun fell forward, lifting himself up and away. Jaejoong slipped from his body. Jaejoong’s knees jerked, and then hit Yoochun in the back as Jaejoong kicked the jeans off. He grunted, pressing against Yoochun’s ass. Yoochun reached behind him, held Jaejoong up. He practically whimpered as Jaejoong cock slipped past that tight ring of muscle again.

He put an elbow on the bed next to Jaejoong’s face, and left the fucking up to Jaejoong. Their lips met, and Yoochun stroked himself, quick as Jaejoong grabbed his hips and thrust up, over and over, cries increasing, melding into a single noise of pleasure, and then his body spasmed, limbs twitching, before he whimpered and slowed.

Yoochun kept moving even as Jaejoong protested from the sensitivity, but he was so close, too close, and his hand went faster. Jaejoong’s fingers twisted his nipples.

“Fuck, yeah,” Yoochun moaned and then he was coming. He covered Jaejoong’s mouth with his and kissed him while he pumped come all over Jaejoong’s stomach and chest. He caught himself from collapsing as his body sagged. Wincing, he let Jaejoong fall from him and then he rolled to the side, arm across Jaejoong’s heaving chest.

“Good fuck that feels good,” Jaejoong said with a grin.

Yoochun laughed, breathless. “Yes, that did indeed feel good.”

Jaejoong propped up on an elbow and smiled. “So you’re a cock whore?”

“I like being fucked, yes.”

Jaejoong smiled and rolled over him. Come dripped onto Yoochun’s chest. “I’m only fifteen. I can be ready again in five minutes. Or less if need be.”

Yoochun kissed him. “You can wake me up if you want. I need a cigarette.”

“Me, too.”

Yoochun turned his head and saw a pack of smokes on his dresser. He shoved Jaejoong. “Go get them.”

“Why do I have to get up?”

“Because you topped, and I’m sore.”

“You’re only sore because you didn’t prep enough, so you’re stupid. You go get them.

"You have come all over you so you have to get up and clean yourself up anyway.”

Jaejoong rolled over him. "Fine," he said and made a face as he peeled off the used condom. He stood up, legs shaking as he walked across the room. He tossed the condom in the trash can, and then went to the dresser, picked up the pack of smokes and shook it. He flipped open the top, stuck a cigarette in his mouth and pulled the pack away, tossing it to Yoochun in the same motion. He lit it up, cheeks hallowing as he sucked in a drag.

“You do realize that anytime you put something in your mouth I’m going to be picturing it as my dick, right?”

Jaejoong smiled and threw the lighter to Yoochun. “Pedo-hyung.”

Yoochun lit his cigarette.

“I’m going to spoil this moment and ask if you’ve been tested,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong looked over his shoulder, he opened his mouth, and then shut it, eyes dropping. “I should, huh?”

“Yeah. You should.”

“Will you go with me?”

Yoochun smiled and nodded. “Just let me know.”

“O-okay.” Jaejoong picked up the towel he’d used earlier and wiped the come off his body. He dropped the towel back on the floor.

“Hey, what about me?” Yoochun said, gesturing at the drops of come on his body.

Jaejoong smiled, feral. He took one more drag on his cigarette and then walked over to extinguish his cigarette in the ashtray on the dresser. He sat on the bed, running a finger up and down Yoochun’s body, leg to chest. A dollop of come pearled at the tip of Yoochun’s cock as it twitched. Jaejoong laughed, leaned over him and licked it up, sucking lightly on the soft head. Yoochun’s eyes shut with a sigh. Lips and tongue touched a few places on his chest and then Jaejoong kissed him.

“All clean,” he whispered.

He wasn’t completely, but he had no desire to get up and take a shower and wash lube from his body. He grabbed the blanket and Jaejoong repositioned next to him. His skin was cool, and Yoochun curled around him. He reached up and flipped the lamp off.

“I really liked that,” Jaejoong muttered, lips against Yoochun’s chest. “S-sex with you doesn’t hurt.”

Yoochun tightened his arms around Jaejoong, heart clenching with more than just concern and lust. He kissed Jaejoong’s forehead.

Jaejoong yawned. Half asleep, he muttered, “Thanks, hyung.”


	9. Twisted Chords

**This chapter is NC-17**

It took Yoochun a very long time to get up. With only a few hours of sleep and his body still aching, he wanted to say fuck it and call in sick. But he couldn’t do that to his students.

Jaejoong sprawled on the bed next to him with his arm was flung over Yoochun’s stomach. Reluctantly, Yoochun slid over and out of bed. A dull ache spread through his lower back as he went to the kitchen and started coffee. Cigarette burning, he moved through his darkened apartment. He trailed fingers over the keys, but not pressing. He did not want to disturb Jaejoong, but Jaejoong had to get to school.

He stubbed out his cigarette and went back to the bedroom. Jaejoong had rolled to his side. His hands and legs jerked like he was dreaming.

Yoochun kneeled on the edge of the bed and leaned down enough to kiss his arm, from elbow to shoulder. Jaejoong shivered when Yoochun kissed his neck, and then he moaned, rolling to his back. Yoochun moved his lips to Jaejoong chest, again kissing the faded bruises.

“Hm, hy-hyung,” Jaejoong whined.

“You have school.”

“I’m not going.”

“You have to.”

“Don’t care.” Jaejoong flipped to his other side, away from Yoochun. “I feel like shit.”

Yoochun did not stop kissing Jaejoong’s skin, trailing his lips down his bare back, over his bony hip.

“Damn it, hyung.” Jaejoong spun to his back again, and Yoochun moved his lips accordingly. Down his thigh, and then back up until he breathed hot air on Jaejoong’s hardening cock.

Yoochun smiled as it twitched.

“I hate you,” Jaejoong said with a pout.

“Sure you do,” Yoochun replied and licked at the head.

Jaejoong moaned.

Yoochun cupped Jaejoong’s thigh, spreading his leg and lifting his head at the same time. With fingers teasing his sack, Yoochun closed his lips around Jaejoong’s shaft, sliding his mouth up. Jaejoong’s hand fell on his head with a whimper. Gripping his balls firmly, Yoochun sucked the soft head of Jaejoong’s cock into his mouth, lips stretched around the width.

God, this kid.

“Fuck, hyung,” Jaejoong gasped as Yoochun took half of his cock into his throat at once. His mouth was not quite as capable as taking all of Jaejoong like his ass was, so Yoochun wrapped his hand around and rubbed the shaft while sucking on the head, dipping to take more.

Jaejoong’s legs spread and he jerked his hips up with a cry, pulling Yoochun’s hair with every trip into Yoochun’s mouth.

Yoochun knew he didn’t have time for much more than this, but god, he wanted … no, he had to feel this kid inside him again. He let Jaejoong’s cock go and rolled away, ignoring the boy’s protest.

“I was so close,” Jaejoong whimpered.

“I know.” Yoochun went to his dresser and grabbed a condom. The bottle of lube was on the floor. He ripped the condom open on his way to the bed, and then had it rolled onto Jaejoong’s erection in a moment.

“Fuck, hyung, I …”

Yoochun kissed him to shut him up. “Get on your damn knees and fuck me.”

Jaejoong smirked. “No.”

“Jaejoong.”

“I’m saying no. So if you sit on my cock that makes it rape. Shame on you, naughty sonsaengnim, raping your student.”

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun said, this time with a whine and a pout. “I want you.”

Jaejoong put his arms around Yoochun’s neck. “I’ll fuck you if you let me go back to sleep and skip school.”

Yoochun let out a huff of frustration. “I can’t make you go to school, Jae.”

“Good answer.” Jaejoong kissed him and then sat up.

Yoochun knew better than this. He should have … should have … He moaned as Jaejoong’s slick fingers slipped inside him. “No-no p-prep. It’s … good. Just do it.”

“Such a slut,” Jaejoong said.

The head of his cock pushed against Yoochun’s entrance, and Yoochun moaned Jaejoong’s name. His plea to be fucked was lost in a cry as Jaejoong thrust forward, stretching him open. Yoochun put his head to the bed and _moaned_ as Jaejoong pushed into him until their skin pressed together.

Mind blank, eyes shut tight enough to leak tears, Yoochun wondered if this was what heaven felt like, reminded himself that he had no chance of going to heaven because Jaejoong was only fifteen and then decided that Jaejoong just sitting there was torturous enough to have it be what hell felt like.

“Move, please, Jaejoong, please.”

Jaejoong shuddered and slipped out a couple inches, before slamming back in, tearing a startled cry from Yoochun. His hand was immediately stroking his cock as Jaejoong thrust into him hard and fast.

“Fuck, hyung, why … just … fuck.”

Yoochun agreed with a groan and a whimper as his orgasm suddenly crashed through him. Mouth open, biting down on the bed, body stilling, and then jerking as everything crashed around him, and his release covered the sheets below him. Jaejoong cursed again, and sped up. His hands tightened on Yoochun’s ass and then he fell forward, as his body twitched through his orgasm.

Jaejoong collapsed and Yoochun landed in his own mess with a grunt. Jaejoong’s breath panted between his shoulder blades.

“Is it too late for me to demand that you skip with me too?”

“Yes, and I can’t do that. I have lessons.”

Jaejoong rolled off him with a moan. The condom made a wet noise as it half slipped from his cock. “Clean me up, sonsaengnim. It’s your fault.”

Yoochun smiled. He propped up on an elbow and kissed Jaejoong’s cheek. “Yes, Leader of the Universe.”

Jaejoong rolled his eyes. “Lame. Just call me master.”

Yoochun chuckled and kissed him on the lips. “Just lay there and be beautiful.” He sat up and removed the condom, tying it off. He licked up the few stray drops of Jaejoong’s come and then sucked on the head of his cock. Jaejoong laughed and pushed him away. Yoochun stood up. He scraped most of his come off the bed with the towel they used the night before and then cleaned off his hand and body.

“You’re such a fucker,” Jaejoong said, yawning.

“Why?”

“Tell me why you’re not, and then I’ll tell you why you are.” Jaejoong rolled onto his side and flung the blanket over his body.

Yoochun chuckled. He leaned over the bed and kissed Jaejoong’s cheek. “See you later, master.”

Yoochun took a long shower. Afterwards, he did his best to dress quietly so he wouldn’t wake Jaejoong up. The kid definitely needed more sleep. And Yoochun needed more coffee. He moved to the kitchen, and made a quick bite to eat while coffee brewed. He had about fifteen minutes before he absolutely had to leave.

Normally he’d play the piano for those few minutes. He went to the living room, and stopped, staring at Jaejoong’s bag.

Two sides fought within him: look, be nosy, make sure he didn’t have any drugs; or respect his privacy, not go through his things. Yoochun couldn’t tell which was the devil and which was the angel in this situation.

With a sigh, he hefted the bag and sat it on a chair. It was bulky and he found out why when Jaejoong’s school uniform almost burst from it. It was amazing the thing was never wrinkled. He checked the pockets, and then put the uniform on the floor. School books, notebooks, pens calculator. Nothing seemed amiss. Every pocket had something in it. Yoochun nodded in relief, and then remembered.

When he was seventeen, running on the streets with a fear of not cops, but thugs, he always had a spot for his drugs. And more than once, even after he’d been left bleeding and robbed, no one ever seemed to find that.

Yoochun dumped everything from Jaejoong’s and with a sigh, saw the hidden pocket at the bottom.

He unzipped it, and then shut his eyes as a baggie of white powder was revealed. After tossing it on the floor, he turned the back bag inside out, looking for more, but that was the only one. Another pocket, not as hidden, held a few hundred won. Yoochun shoved everything back in the bag, zipped it up and put it on the floor.

Baggie in hand, he was half way to his room to demand an explanation when the image of Jaejoong sleeping filled his mind. He couldn’t wake him up. Not now. He’d talk to him after he returned from class. He went to the bathroom and flushed the cocaine, baggie and all.

He didn’t trust himself to steal a kiss from Jaejoong and not shake him until Jaejoong understood how dangerous his life was, so he didn’t go back to the bedroom. He picked up his briefcase and laptop case and went to school.

It was hard to concentrate on his lessons and he felt so bad because they had a recital to prepare for.

A little after noon, he received a text message. He knew it’d be Jaejoong, so he ignored it until he was on his way home.

_Thanks for going through my shit, bitch. I hate you._

Yoochun sighed. He wanted to text Jaejoong back, but what did he say? _It’s for your own good._ … or how about _You’ll thank me when you’re older._? None of those worked on an emotionally charged teenager. It only pissed them off more, made them rebel harder.

Finally he settled on: _You can come over whenever you want. But don’t bring drugs into my house again._

He wasn’t surprised when Jaejoong was gone when he got home. On his kitchen table, written in ketchup of all things were three words _I trusted you._

Every text Yoochun sent him came back as undeliverable. Jaejoong had blocked him.

And for the second weekend in a row, Yoochun drank himself into a stupor and played the piano.

♪-♪-♪-♪

Monday morning, Jaejoong was not in class. Yoochun tried to concentrate on his lessons. The girls were working so hard on their music pieces. He felt like an utter asshole for neglecting them over a cute piece of troubled emotions.

After class, Jaelin hung back and played with the lower keys on the piano.

“Did you need something, Jaelin?”

She bit her lip. “Do you know where Jaejoong is, oppa?”

Yoochun shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

“He … he won’t answer his phone.”

“You got his number?” Yoochun said with a smile.

Jaelin blushed. “Yeah, but … it’s … we’re just friends, oppa. Jaejoong is … we’re just friends.”

Yoochun wondered when Jaejoong had told her his little secret. The other girls were still devising ways of confessing to Jaejoong.

“I’m worried about him,” Jaelin said.

“Why? He’s probably just sick.”

“He … I’m … worried, oppa, I really like him, and if I tell you, you have to promise that you won’t tell him it was me.”

“I promise,” Yoochun said, but he had a feeling nothing she said would be anything new.

“He … asked me if I had ever done drugs, and I told him no, and then he said that was good and that I never should ever do drugs and I told him I wouldn’t but when I said you shouldn’t do drugs either, he got really quiet and then after a long time said that he wasn’t, but I think he was lying and …”

“Jaelin, sh, it’s okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“You don’t think he’s doing drugs, do you, oppa?”

Yoochun refused to break this young girl’s heart about one of her friends. He shook his head. “No, Jaelin. I don’t. He’s too smart for that. Maybe someone in his family is.”

She looked down and then nodded.

“Has he said anything else to you? About troubles in his life?”

“No, oppa. We mainly talk about music.”

“Okay. Go on home. I’ll call Jaejoong’s parents and see if he stayed home today.”

Jaelin nodded and left the room. Yoochun didn’t call Jaejoong’s parents, because he doubted they’d answer, and he doubted they’d care, but he also did not want to get Jaejoong in trouble. This was more than just a student playing hooky.

He went home utterly worried and depressed. He didn’t eat or drink or play. All he did was pace his living room. Back and forth, chewing on his nails and cursing himself. It really was his fault. He sat hard on the couch, head in his hands.

He shouldn’t have gone through Jaejoong’s things. It would have been better to ask the kid not to bring drugs into his house. Jaejoong liked him. Jaejoong would have respected his request.

It was almost two a.m. when Yoochun was startled out of sleep by a knock on his door. He jumped up, rushing, flinging it open. But it wasn’t Jaejoong on the other side.

The older looking man stumbled through an apology and bowed. “A-are you Park Yoochun?” he asked and held out a piece of paper.

It was Yoochun’s business card. He nodded, reaching for it. There was a deep red smudge on the side that Yoochun hoped wasn’t blood.

“I’m a cab driver, sir, and there’s a young man in my cab and he’s passed out and in rough shape. I … he said to take him here and then … yeah. I can’t …”

Yoochun felt his stomach drop to his feet, and his head went light. He grabbed his keys and his phone and told the driver to lead the way to his cab. His steps were heavy, terrified at what he’d find, and it was so much worse than he’d imagined.

Jaejoong’s face was covered in dried blood, his right eye was swollen shut. All he wore was a ripped tank top and a pair of light blue jeans, no shoes even. There was blood on his arms and his legs.

Yoochun fell to his knees next to the car. He tapped Jaejoong’s cheeks, trying to get him to wake up, saying his name softly. Panicked, he lifted Jaejoong’s eyelid, saw the utterly blown pupils and almost threw up.

“Fuck. Can you take us to the nearest hospital?”

“Yes.”

Yoochun lifted Jaejoong enough and sat down. “Speed. If you get pulled over, I’ll pay your ticket.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yoochun continued to try to wake Jaejoong up. His eyes roved over his body and saw cuts on his stomach and from the blood on his pants, Yoochun knew there were more on his legs.

“What … what happened to you?” Yoochun whispered.

“I saw him on the road, sir. He was stumbling, so I pulled over to see if he was drunk. I told him I’d take him to the hospital or home and he just kept saying ‘Park Yoochun’s house’ and then he passed out and I found your card in his wallet.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Um, not really. He kept apologizing to someone named Gi, but I couldn’t get anything coherent out of him.”

“Thank you so much for helping him. I’m not sure how long I’ll be at the hospital, but I’ll need a ride home.”

The cab driver reached into the ashtray and pulled out a business card. He handed it back to Yoochun.

“You call me anytime,” he said.

Yoochun said thank you again, and he could almost hear the whisper of Jaejoong’s voice saying, ‘Thanks, hyung.’

With a quiet sob, Yoochun buried his face in Jaejoong’s chest and willed the cabbie to drive faster.


	10. Bloody Jeans

**This chapter discusses dark themes like rape, incest and physical abuse.**

Yoochun watched, heart breaking as the nurses whisked Jaejoong to the emergency room. He hadn’t been planning on sleeping anyway so he stayed in the waiting room and paced, back and forth, for who knows how many hours. He cried, more than once, and a nurse brought him a cup of dark coffee.

“And it’s from our machine,” she said with a smile, “not from the cafeteria.”

Yoochun smiled and bowed his thanks. The coffee burned down his throat.

A couple hours later, a doctor came into the room. Yoochun bowed ninety degrees to him.

He said, “You brought Kim Jaejoong in?”

Yoochun nodded.

“Come with me.” The doctor talked as they walked and Yoochun followed him beyond the emergency room doors. “He’s doing fine. A little bruising, but no damage to his internal organs. A few broken fingers and some cuts that had to be stitched up.”

The doctor led him into Jaejoong’s room and Yoochun had to take a deep breath to keep from rushing to his side. There was an IV in his arm, and a bandage over the right side of his face.

“We were afraid of his eyesight in that right eye, but he should be fine. In abuse cases like this, it is standard procedure to call the police, and I figured you would not mind answering some questions.”

Yoochun tore his eyes from Jaejoong, and saw two police officers just outside the door. “N-no. I-I-”

“Can you tell us what happened?” one said.

Yoochun swallowed. Four years of living life on the good side of the law, and he was still nervous around cops. “I don’t know what happened. He showed up at my apartment unconscious in the back of a cab.”

“What time was this?”

“Um, two. One thirty. I … I didn’t look at a clock.”

“So he just showed up at your place?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t hit him?”

“God, no.”

“And that’s not your sperm in his body then?”

“No!”

“Have you ever fucked him, Yoochun-shi?”

Yoochun crossed his arms and said, “I’m starting to think I might want my lawyer here for this.”

“If you would prefer, maybe that would be a good idea. What about the drugs? With your previous record, and the fact that they found heroin and cocaine in his blood-”

“I paid my dues for that, and I’m clean. I’ll take any test you want to prove that. I’m his music teacher. I would never give him drugs.”

“It may be better if you’d step outside the room until we can corroborate your story.”

Yoochun glanced at Jaejoong’s still form one more time. He learned that cooperating with cops (up to a point) was better than not. He might be physically removed from the property if he demanded to stay with Jaejoong. “Fine. But I’m not leaving the hospital.”

“There’s a waiting room just down the hall.”

Yoochun followed the officers. As soon as the door shut behind them, Yoochun pulled out his phone and called Changmin. He didn’t answer, so he called again. On the third try, Changmin grumbled a “What the fuck, Yoochun,” as a hello.

“I need you.”

“It’s four-thirty in the morning, bitch,” Changmin said, voice heavy. “Please don’t make me hate you even more because you were supposed to come over yesterday and you didn’t.”

“I need you like a client needs his lawyer.”

“Fuck, what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“I’ve heard that one from you before.”

“Shut up. Jaejoong is in the hospital. Beaten with heroin in his blood stream and they think I did it because I brought him in.”

“Fuck. You didn’t do it?”

“NO!”

“God, just asking. Where are you? I can be there in an hour.”

Yoochun told him and then hung up the phone. He paced again, mind running with worry for the boy in the room. A tidbit of information the doctor had said hit Yoochun hard, and he stopped breathing like someone had punched him.

Broken fingers. Someone had broken Jaejoong’s fingers.

Red hot fury coiled through him. And then he collapsed on a chair. He needed to be next to Jaejoong.

The door opened and the two officers escorted Changmin into the waiting room. Tall and handsome, successful and smart (though Yoochun would never tell him that to his face), Changmin had been saving and helping Yoochun since he was fifteen years old. Even now, he showed up in a suit and jacket with a tie, like he was going to an afternoon business meeting. Every inch of him screamed ‘LAWYER and my client is innocent’.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Give me a few minutes to discuss things with my client and then we’ll be right with you.”

Yoochun waited for the door to shut and then stood up and hugged Changmin tightly. The utter feeling of helplessness released into tears as Changmin’s arms wrapped around him.

“You’ve always been so emotional,” Changmin said with only half of his usual snark.

“Shut up,” Yoochun said and wiped at his cheeks.

“Tell me what happened.”

He let out a huff of frustration and dropped back tot he chair. Changmin sat next to him, pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled notes as Yoochun talked. Yoochun started when Jaejoong had come over Thursday night all strung out, skipping over the sex, and then continued when he’d gone through Jaejoong’s bag and found cocaine.

“So we have to find out who this Gi is he was apologizing to and who Siwon is?”

“Yeah. God, Min, his fingers are broken. He … what if he can’t play anymore?”

Changmin patted his knee. “I’m sure he’ll be alright, Chunnie. Now, answers to questions that I should I know. Have you had sex with him?”

Yoochun sighed. “Yes, damn it. After I put him to bed until he sobered up. He sobered up and … well, he’s gorgeous.”

“But not within the last twenty four hours?”

“No.”

“Good, so they shouldn’t be able to find even traces of your semen inside him.”

Yoochun smirked. “A little difficult when he topped.”

Changmin leered at him. “Oh really?”

“The kid is well endowed.”

“That’s even better.”

Yoochun smiled widely.

“For your case I mean, you pervert. So is there anyone that will back you up on this story?”

“The cab driver,” Yoochun said. He took out the man’s card and handed it to Changmin.

Changmin nodded. “I’ll call him right now. You look like you need a cigarette.”

“Oh god, yes.”

They both stood up. One of the police officers escorted Yoochun to a patio outside where he could smoke. Yoochun came back from the cigarette break to see Changmin talking to the other police officer.

“The cab driver is on his way,” Changmin said, “but it won’t do any good, because the cop says there’s no way to prove that you didn’t do this to him before he was picked up by the cab driver.”

Yoochun rolled his eyes. He really hated cops.

“Also, they’re not going to let you in to see him until--”

“You bastard!” a woman shrieked and the four men turned to see an irate woman stalking down the hallway. The doctor followed her, panicked. She lifted her arm to smack Yoochun, but an officer caught her around the middle

“How could you do this to him? He’s a child, my baby, how could yo--”

“Calm down, ma’am,” the police officer said. “We have no evidence that he did anything to Jaejoong. Trust me when I say that when we get that evidence, we’ll arrest him.”

“He did it. He did. He … who else … he .. we trusted you!”

Changmin turned on his utterly, you love me mode, and whispered something to the woman.

“I’m his mother,” she shouted.

“Mrs. Kim, please,” Changmin said. “It’s early and there are other patients. Let’s go into your son’s room and get some tea from the nurse.”

Yoochun sighed as Changmin led Jaejoong’s mom away. Changmin looked at the doctor and said, “It would be best for your career not to slander my client without evidence.”

The doctor looked properly chastised, and then the door shut behind them.

It took another two hours until Jaejoong woke up from the anesthesia. One of the cops was more sympathetic than the other one and came and told Yoochun that Jaejoong was alert and talking. They had interviewed the cab driver, but Changmin had been right. There was no evidence to show that Yoochun hadn’t done anything to Jaejoong before he was picked up.

Changmin poked his head in the door. “He’s refusing to talk to anyone but you.”

Yoochun stopped in his pacing.

“He … his mom keeps asking what Siwon has to do with it, but Jaejoong refuses to say anything.”

“Who is Siwon?” Yoochun asked.

“His brother-in-law. He’s married to his sister Gilin.”

“Fuck,” Yoochun said. He hurried out of the room and followed Changmin down the hall to Jaejoong’s room. The doctor, his mom, and both officers were there. Jaejoong smiled, or tried to when Yoochun came in the room.

“H-hi, hyung.”

“Hey, Jae. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he said and ignored his mom’s reprimand.

“Didn’t I tell you not to do drugs?”

“Yeah, shut up. Blah blah blah. Go away if you’re going to lecture me again.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Turn around. Walk away. Everyone else does.” Jaejoong ripped his hand from his mother’s grip and her breath hitched.

“No, you don’t get it, Jaejoong. They think I did this to you.”

Jaejoong’s eyes went wide with shock.

“And if I leave here, it’s going to be in handcuffs, and I haven’t been in handcuffs for years. Well, at least not outside of the bedroom”

Jaejoong smiled, and then bit his lower lip and looked down.

“You have to tell us what happened.”

“He’ll lie to protect him,” his mom said quickly.

“Shut up,” Jaejoong said. “J-just shut up. You don’t know anything. Yoochun has helped me when you … just … you … you don’t care about anything to do with me. You don’t care at all and it takes me getting thrown into a hospital to get some attention from you. When was the last time you held my hand, huh? When was the last time you even asked me about how I was doing in school? You don’t give a fuck, well fuck you, just fu--”

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun said and touched his cheek.

Jaejoong turned away and shut his eyes as tears leaked out of his eyes. “She doesn’t care about me at all.”

“She’s your mother, Jaejoong. Of course she cares. Now apologize for swearing at her.”

“No. She can burn in hell.”

Yoochun smiled an apology at his mother, but she was staring at her son with unseeing eyes. He refused to look at her.

“Siwon did it,” Jaejoong suddenly said. “Siwon … he …”

“But he’s--” his mother started.

“He raped me, Mother,” Jaejoong said, turning heated eyes to her. “Two … days, two days after you shunted me off to live with them. How long ago was that? I was barely thirteen.”

“You’re lying. He’s a good man, he’s a …” She reached over and shook Jaejoong’s shoulder. One of the officers stopped her, pulling her away.

“He’s a good man,” she repeated. “Don’t you slander his name.”

“He’s a fuckhead,” Jaejoong snapped, and then turned panicked eyes to Yoochun. “I … I don’t want to talk about this, hyung.”

“You need to. You don’t have to talk about what happened before. Try to forget about all of that. Just talk about what happened tonight. Okay?”

“You slept your lawyer, huh?”

“Jaejoong!”

“You so did,” Jaejoong said with a smile. “Not that I blame you, he’s hot.”

Yoochun ignored Jaejoong’s mom whine of disbelief. “Yes, I did. After he saved my ass. I had to pay him somehow and I didn’t have any money.”

“Saved your ass and then took your ass.”

Yoochun smiled. “Yeah.”

“I knew you weren’t being honest about that family friend thing.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

Jaejoong rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Yoochun very carefully held the two fingers on his left hand that weren’t bandaged. “I’m sorry I went through your bag. I … I have no excuse for why I did it. And I shouldn’t have.”

“I … “ He looked around the room, and then nodded. “I … I’m sorry I took cocaine into your house. I … I wasn’t really thinking then, but I shouldn’t have and I won’t again. I promise.”

“Can you promise that you’ll stop doing cocaine?”

Jaejoong looked away.

Yoochun reached for his cheek, and then Changmin cleared his throat, reminding Yoochun where they were. “What happened, Jaejoong?”

Jaejoong took a deep breath. “I … I--” He looked up at the cops. “After I left your house or--”

Yoochun shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Just tell us what happened yesterday and who did this to you.”

Changmin moved to the end of the bed. “If it’s okay with you, Jaejoong, I’m going to record this so you don’t have to tell us again.”

Jaejoong looked panicked.

Yoochun gripped his fingers tightly. “It’s so you don’t have to relive it again, okay? I know … I know how hard it is to talk about something like this.”

Jaejoong nodded, and then took another deep breath. “I--I went home on Sunday, because Gilin likes to have dinner with me on Sundays and I’m not always--I … yeah. But when I got there, she wasn’t there, or I … I didn’t--” Jaejoong took a really deep breath. “Siwon caught me in the living room. I hadn’t seen his car, so I thought he was gone. And … hyung--I …”

“What did he do?”

“He laughed because … I--I can’t fight back. I do, but he says if I fight back he’ll start hurting Gilin because she’d never hit him and so … he just … “ Jaejoong’s breath caught with a sob, and his eyes shut tightly.

“You don’t have to give us details, Jaejoong,” Changmin said really quietly. “Did he hurt you?”

Jaejoong nodded. “A punch is like a hello for him.”

“Did he rape you then?”

“N-no, not then. He made me strip and then … He tied me up and gagged me, and … after--” Jaejoong’s whole body shivered in disgust and he leaned his head on Yoochun’s arm.

“The doctor says there were welts on your back,” Changmin said.

“He always whips me with his belt. It’s his favorite thing to see how many times he can hit me before I cry.”

Jaejoong’s mom moaned in distress.

“What happened after that?” Changmin asked.

Jaejoong started shaking. “He--I’ve never … I’ve never done anything with needles before, because it’s like--Yunho said not to, that cocaine was all I’d need and to never ever shoot up because of the risks and he--”

“Who’s Yunho?” one of the cops said.

Jaejoong clamped his mouth shut.

“I don’t think that’s relevant right now,” Changmin said.

Yoochun was so very thankful for Changmin’s presence. He couldn’t do anything but hold Jaejoong’s hand at the moment. There was no way he’d know what questions to ask and which ones not to ask.

“Did Siwon give you some drugs?” Changmin asked.

Jaejoong nodded. “In my arm.”

“After that?”

Jaejoong shook his head. “It … it was so … blurry and twisting and he carried me upstairs and …” He stopped and muttered something into Yoochun’s arm. His sister’s name over and over.

“Is your sister okay?” Yoochun asked.

Jaejoong nodded. “She … she didn’t know. She was … she was blindfolded and Siwon told me if I made any noise he’d really hurt her and I had to do what he said and I--”

“What did he make you do to her?” Changmin said.

Jaejoong shook his head. “She--she thought I was him and she … He had a knife and every time I refused, he cut me and then he was going to cut her and I just … I had to. He would have hurt her, and--” He started shaking.

The doctor came over to the bed and put his hand on Jaejoong’s arm. “He needs to rest. I feel it’s best if Jaejoong finishes--”

“No,” he said, glaring at the doctor with eyes too haunted for a teenager. “No. I don’t want to think about it again.”

“What did he make you do to her?” Changmin asked quietly.

“He …” Jaejoong looked up at Yoochun, so lost, so terrified and hurt. This time Yoochun touched his cheek softly. His eyes shut, tears fell over his bruised cheek. “He made me fuck her,” he whispered.

His mom wailed and collapsed. The officer holding her took her out of the room.

“Has he done this before?” Changmin asked.

Jaejoong shook his head and looked down. “No … he-he talked to her and asked her if she liked it and she had no idea and … I--I … need too--”

Changmin handed Yoochun a trash can and Jaejoong threw up, body shaking.

“Now, really,” the doctor said. “This is too much.”

Yoochun held Jaejoong close as he tried to control himself. Changmin was there with a cup of water, and Jaejoong took a small sip.

“What happened after that Jaejoong?”

“I … I don’t remember,” he said. “I--I was so high, everything spinning and … I remember getting up and … I don’t remember.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Changmin said. “Do you want another drink?”

Jaejoong shook his head. He lay back on the pillows and turned his head away. Yoochun kept his gaze on Jaejoong, not letting go of his hand.

“Well, gentlemen,” Changmin said. “I hope you no longer have a need to arrest my client.”

“We want his official statement.”

“Of course.” Changmin led them out the door.

“He really needs rest,” the doctor said.

Yoochun nodded, but when he tried to let go of his fingers, Jaejoong held on tightly.

“Please stay,” Jaejoong said. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You did a good job, Jaejoong.”

“Kept your ass outta jail.”

“Yeah, but that took a lot of courage. I’m proud of you.”

“I just hope Gilin’s okay. This is going to fuck her life up.”

“That’s not your fault,” Yoochun said quickly.

“I know.”

“I added some pain medicine to your IV, Jaejoong,” the doctor said. “You should fall asleep again in a few minutes.” He looked at Yoochun and said, “You’re his teacher.”

Yoochun nodded. “How are his fingers?”

“They’ll heal, but he shouldn’t play for a few weeks.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaejoong said. “I’m going to die if I can’t play.”

Yoochun smiled. “You still have your other hand. We’ll play together.”

The doctor missed Jaejoong’s leer, thankfully. He nodded to Yoochun and then left the room. Yoochun looked around, made sure that no one was then and then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jaejoong’s.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Yoochun said. “I’m really sorry. I feel stupid around you.”

Jaejoong’s eyes shut as he smiled through a yawn. “Just around me?”

Yoochun chuckled and kissed him again. “Rest well. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Yoochun waited until Jaejoong’s lashes fluttered close to let his tears flow.


	11. Fixed Chords

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

“Thank you very much for coming,” Yoochun said, trying not to wince from the bright lights pointing to the stage. “This recital is a special one since it showcases our student’s abilities in a different way. They all have proven to be able to play classical music as it has been written, and over the last two months, they have all worked hard on writing their own music, their own creations. True musical masters do not let music decide how it should be played. They create, and they manipulate the notes to do as they say. Also, this recital is a little longer since our student Kim Jaejoong has recovered from breaking his fingers and is able to play.”

Yoochun looked to the side, but could not see Jaejoong past the bright lights. Yoochun continued through line up of performances. He introduced Soonli as the first performer and then left the stage.

Jaejoong looked pale.

“You okay?” Yoochun asked, touching his cheek.

“Yeah, just … just … fucking nervous.”

“You’ll do well, baby,” he whispered. “You always do.”

“You’re such a pervert.”

Yoochun chuckled. Last night, he’d let Jaejoong fuck out his nerves on his ass. It’d been well worth the ache in his lower back today. He patted Jaejoong’s shoulder and then went to his other students, making sure they were okay. None were as nervous as Jaejoong, but that was because they’d already done two recitals for the class.

Jaejoong hadn’t left the hospital for a few days until Siwon had been properly incarcerated. His trial was still pending, and Jaejoong was going to have to testify. After he was released, he spent three weeks in a treatment center, wowing his fellow recovering drug addicts with his piano skills. Jaejoong was lucky, they said, to have such a skill.

Twice a week, Jaejoong met with a counselor. Jaejoong didn’t really like her, but he went because he was smart enough to know not to keep things buried deep inside again. He refused to live under the same roof as his mother, despite her protests, so he moved in with another sister, one that showered him with praise and love. Jaejoong said it took awhile to get used to that. But he was managing.

Sometimes Jaejoong said he missed Yunho. And sometimes, even though Yoochun told him not to, Jaejoong would call Yunho. And Jaejoong was a bit upset when Yunho said he wouldn’t come to Jaejoong’s recital. Yoochun understood Yunho’s hesitation.

When it was Jaejoong’s turn on stage, Yoochun gripped his shoulder.

“You’re going to do great, Jaejoong,” Jaelin said and hugged him. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Linnie.”

The kid took a deep breath and walked out on stage to applause. But then he grabbed a microphone. Voice quiet, he said, “I …” He cleared his throat. “Sonsaengnim Park isn’t going to like me for this, but I … I’m going to sing. I wrote lyrics to this song behind his back. He calls me stubborn a lot, so I guess I should live up to his expectations.”

Titters of laughter rose from the audience.

Yoochun crossed his arms and watched as Jaejoong arranged the microphone where he wanted it. The song started with the familiar melody, and for a moment, it almost sounded like the song was going to be happy. But then Jaejoong started singing, voice gravely and short.

_Even when sun shines  
the darkness seeps inside  
Even when lips smile  
the emotions snap cold_

_powder makes it go away  
kissing brings it back  
circles spin  
edges fall  
crashing hurts the least_

_Even when moons rise  
sleep is far away  
Even when hands touch  
pain is forever  
a crutch  
a need  
an excuse  
a hold_

_Please look the other way  
please don’t see me now  
See me when I’m strong  
and not just holding on_

_soju makes it go away  
loving brings it back  
circles spin  
edges fall  
crashing hurts the least_

_Even when the moon shines  
the darkness seeps inside  
Even when the teeth smile  
the emotions snap cold_

_See me when I’m strong  
and not just holding on  
See me when I’m strong  
Right now, I’m just holding on_

As the last refrain died, Yoochun realized he was crying. No one deserved to have so much emotion to write lyrics like that, especially not a teenager. Yoochun tore his eyes away and scanned the audience looking for their reaction. Some looked a bit scandalized at the implications of the lyrics, but most were concerned. A few women were crying.

His eyes were drawn to two figures standing near the side doors. Yunho and Donghae. They were clapping just like everyone else, and suddenly Yunho met Yoochun’s eyes. Yunho bowed his head in acknowledgement and then nudged Donghae and they disappeared though a door.

The applause was deafening, never ending, and Jaejoong sat for a long time with his fingers just above the keys. Suddenly, he stood up, back to the audience and bolted from the stage.

Yoochun made sure Jaelin was announced and okay to take the stage and then he went to find Jaejoong. He was in a corner, shoulders heaving with tears. Yoochun knew better than to say anything, so he kneeled and wrapped his arms around him. It took Jaejoong long minutes to calm down.

“You are so amazing,” Yoochun whispered.

“It … it was okay?”

“Well, I’m going to question why you thought singing those lyrics in front of so many people was a good idea, but yes, it was perfect.”

“I … I need to go to the bathroom,” Jaejoong said.

Yoochun slipped his hand over Jaejoong’s thigh, fingers brushing his half hard erection. “Need some company?”

“Now that’s not a good idea. You really do make stupid decisions around me, huh?”

Yoochun nodded. “Yes. Hurry up. Yuri is almost done playing.”

When all the students had performed, Yoochun led them back on stage for an ending bow. He made a few concluding remarks, announced the next recital in four weeks, and then ended the show. Champagne and refreshments were served in the adjoining hall, where the audience could talk to the performers.

Yoochun found himself a corner, sipping on a flute of champagne and talking to Changmin, when Jaejoong said his name and pushed through the crowds, a familiar face behind him. Interested eyes followed them, and Yoochun saw a few girls lift their cameras to get a picture of pop idol, Kim Junsu.

Yoochun bowed as Jaejoong introduced him, and Junsu shook his hand and Changmin’s hand.

“Thank you for what you’ve done for Jaejoong. I feel bad since my debut because I haven’t had time to watch out for him.”

“You’re the best, hyung,” Jaejoong said and hugged him around the middle.

“You are the best, Jaejoong. I really think you should try out for a company.”

Jaejoong shrugged. “I … I don’t know. I think I’d rather do something else.”

“Like what?” Yoochun asked, intrigued. Jaejoong never talked about his future.

He refused to look up and then mumbled something about helping kids on the street and then he left, embarrassed.

Junsu smiled. “Yeah. You’ve definitely helped him. Both of you. Thank you.”

“Kid still has no manners though,” Changmin muttered to Yoochun. “Shouldn’t you be punishing him for that?”

Yoochun smiled. “I’m usually the one being punished.”

Junsu snorted. “Dare I ask what you’re alluding to?”

Changmin chuckled. “Just private lessons.”

Yoochun choked on his champagne.

“Wow. I really have been a bad hyung if he’s been getting private lessons from you.”

Changmin matched Junsu’s smirk and said, “Such a bad hyung. Maybe you need to be punished?”

Junsu’s face threatened to break into a grin as he looked Changmin up and down, eyes lingering on his long legs and broad shoulders.. “Maybe.” He reached into his jacket pocket, and then handed Changmin a card. “I might not be home until really late, about two or three am. I definitely should be punished for that.”

Changmin slipped the card into his shirt pocket and sipped on his champagne. “Most definitely.”

With a laugh, Junsu bowed and wished them well before walking away.

Yoochun raised an eyebrow at Changmin.

“What?” he said with a not-so-innocent grin. “Did you see his ass? I’m not going to say no to that.”

“Would you say no to anything?”

“Probably not.”

“Hyung,” Jaejoong said next to his elbow. “Can we go? I’m tired of people telling me how good I am.”

“If we go, I’m just going to tell you how good you are.”

“Yeah, but you won’t be talking about the piano.”

Yoochun smiled. “A few more minutes, okay?”

Jaejoong sighed. “Fine. I’m going to sneak out and smoke a cigarette and whenever you’re done basking in your students’ limelight, go home. I’ll probably be there.”

Jaejoong turned away, disappearing in the crowd again. Yoochun was having a hard time letting Jaejoong out of his sight, he was still worried that Jaejoong would go back to Yunho or Donghae. He was still worried about a relapse. But he had promised Jaejoong that he would trust him. And even though it was hard, Yoochun trusted him.

“Gonna get your fill of piano smut tonight,” Changmin said, hiding his smile behind a sip of champagne.

Yoochun cock stirred. He loved riding Jaejoong’s cock on the piano bench.

What felt like years later, he cursed internally when he got caught in more than one conversation, prolonging the time he could leave. Almost an hour later, he’d talked to everyone in the hall, and people were trickling out. He lit a much needed cigarette on his way to the car, and decided on the way home to speed things along. He removed his tie and unbuttoned a few buttons on his dress shirt.

Pretty sure he parked crooked and not caring, Yoochun jumped from his car, barely remembered to grab his bag, and then hurried into his apartment. He finished unbuttoning his shirt before he was at his door. Keys in the lock, hand shaking, he entered his slightly darkened apartment.

At first, he wasn’t even sure if Jaejoong was there. Normally when Jaejoong surprised him by being at his house, Yoochun would already be on his knees, not even passed the front hall. The only thing that let him know that Jaejoong was probably there was the dim light in the kitchen.

Before the thought of Jaejoong waiting for him in bed could flip through Yoochun’s mind, he spotted Jaejoong at the piano, hunched over, asleep, fingers barely on the upper keys. His mouth was open, eyelashes fluttering.

Yoochun smiled. Gently, he put his arms around Jaejoong and lifted him up.

Jaejoong stirred. “H-hyung.”

“Hey, baby.”

Jaejoong cuddled up to Yoochun’s chest as Yoochun walked down the hallway. “Hmm, guess what?”

“Huh?”

“Yunho said he saw me play.”

“Yeah. I saw him while you were playing. He left right after. He was clapping really hard, so he liked it.”

Yoochun settled Jaejoong into bed. He peeled Jaejoong’s jeans off, leaving him in boxers and a tank top.

“Hyung, where are you go-go…” Jaejoong yawned.

“I’m going to change my clothes.”

“M’kay.”

Yoochun watched as Jaejoong curled on his side, arm across the bed. He changed into sweat pants, ran a quick check to make sure all the lights were off, and the door locked. He lifted the edge of the blanket and laid down next to Jaejoong.

Jaejoong whimpered in contentment and shuffled close, arm across Yoochun’s chest. “Warm,” he muttered.

“Hot,” Yoochun said and kissed Jaejoong’s forehead.

Jaejoong’s lips twitched in a smile. “Pervert.”

“Love.”

“Mm, yeah. Love. Thanks, hyung.” Jaejoong snuggled closer. Yoochun kissed Jaejoong’s cheek and then leaned back on the pillows to wait for sleep.


End file.
